PULPIT    PORTRAITS, 


PEN-PICTURES 


OP 


DISTINGUISHED  AMERICAN  DIVINES; 


SKETCHES  OF  CONGREGATIONS  AND  CHOIRS ; 


AND   INCIDENTAL  NOTICES  OP 


EMINENT    BRITISH    PREACHERS, 


BY  JOHN  BOSS  DIX, 


AUTHOR  OF  "PEN  AND  INK  SKETCHES,     "PASSAGES  FROM  THE 

HISTORY  OF  A  WASTED    LIFE;"    " PEN-PICTURES   OF 

ENGLISH  PREACHERS;"   "THE  LIFE  OP 

JT^^CHATTERTON;"  ETC. 

^3&&~A-^i 

7Z>*&*  THE 


V 

BOSTON: 


TAPPAN    AND  WHITTEMORE. 

MILWAUKEE:   A.  WHITTEMORE  &  CO. 
CHILICOTHE:    WHITTEMORE  &  SAXTON. 

1854. 


ftf 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1853,  by 

TAPPAN  AND   WHITTEMORE, 

in  the  Clerk's  office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


ANDOVER  :  J.   D.   FLAGG, 
Stereotyper  and  Printer. 


CONTENTS, 


CHAPTER    I. 

Page. 

Early  Recollections.  A  Dull  Preacher.  Reminiscences  of 
Pulpit  Orators.  A  Word  or  Two  about  what  is  to 
Come 1 


CHAPTER    II. 

Picture-Making  and  Word-Sketching.  A  Literary  Party. 
Departed  Friends.  A  Slight  Mistake.  The  Rev.  Mr. 
Stockton,  of  Philadelphia.  Notices  of  Wm.  Dawson  and 
Robert  Newton.  .  , 20 


CHAPTER   III. 


Pen-Pictures  in  Providence.     Scenes  at  Brown  University. 
President  Wayland.     Dr.  Caswell,     A  Scene  in  Church,     31 


IV  CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

Page. 

The  Rev.  Dr.  Bethune,  of  Brooklyn,  N.  Y.  Personal  ap- 
pearance. Style  of  Oratory.  Extemporaneous  preach- 
ing. Croly.  Dr.  Bethune  as  an  Author.  Notice  of 
Dr.  Sharp 40 


CHAPTER    V. 

Sabbath  Morning.  A  Cosmopolitan  Creed.  Rev.  Mr. 
Miner's  Church.  Piety  and  Politeness.  Floral  Decora- 
tion. A  Sketch  of  the  Preacher  and  the  Service 47 


CHAPTER    VI. 

Copp's  Hill.     Monumental  Mockery.    Salem  Street  Church. 
The  Rev.  Edward  Beecher,  D.  D 64 


CHAPTER    VII. 

Brooklyn,  Ancient  and  Modern.  Its  Churches.  A  Word 
or  Two  on  Church  Architecture  as  it"  is  and  as  it  should 
be.  Dr.  Cox's  Church.  Sketch  of  the  Preacher.  His 
Style.  His  Defeat  of  the  Mormons.  Anecdote  of  Win. 
Jay 74 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

Page. 

Rowe  Street  Church.  A  Church  among  the  Mountains. 
Hymn  Books  and  Hymnology.  An  Effective  Choir. 
Dr.  Baron  Stow.  His  personal  appearance.  Style  of 
Preaching.  The  Orator  and  the  Teacher 89 


CHAPTER    IX. 

Sunday  in  New  York.  Trinity  Church  Yard.  Early 
Church  Impressions.  Dr.  Magoon's  Church.  Whistling 
a  Psalm-Tune.  Sketch  of  Rev.  E.  L.  Magoon.  His 
Style 104 


CHAPTER  X. 

A  Sailor  Preacher.     Ann  Street.     Father  Taylor.     The 
Bethel  Church.     Its  Congregation 114 


CHAPTER    XI. 

Sailor  Preachers,  Continued.  The  Press  and  the  Pulpit 
Sketch  of  Father  Taylor's  Preaching.  "  Old  Timber- 
head"  Anecdotes,  etc 128 


CHAPTER    XII. 

Speculations.  The  Music  Hall.  Theodore  Parker's  Con- 
gregation. The  Preacher.  His  Personal  Appearance, 
Style,  etc , 134 


VI  CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

Od  Divines.  Comparison  between  South  and  Lyman 
Beecher.  Mr.  Lovejoy's  Successor.  Dr.  Beecher's 
Personal  Appearance.  Fragments  of  his  Early  History,  150 


v 
CHAPTER    XIV. 

Dr.  Lyman  Beecher,  Continued.     Anecdotes.     His  Tact. 

Remarks  on  his  Style 160 


CHAPTER    XV. 

John  Overton  Choules,  D.  D.  Early  Recollections.  A 
Library  Talk.  The  Church  at  Newport.  General 
Remarks 169 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

Reminiscence  of  Lant  Carpenter,  D.  D.  Visit  to  Federal 
Street  Church.  The  Late  Dr.  Channing.  Dr.  Ezra  S. 
Gannett 186 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

Rev.  John   Pierpont.     His   Appearance.     His    Style   of 
Preaching,  etc.     Rev.  E.  H.  Chapin. .195 


CONTENTS.  Vil 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

Page. 
The  Bromficld  Street  Church.     A  Reminiscence  of  Dr. 

Beaumont.     The  Rev.  Joseph  Cummings.     His  Style  of 
Oratory.     General  Remarks 208 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

Flashy  Preaching.     Dr.  Richard  S.  Storrs.     Appearance. 

Style  of  Preaching,  etc. 214 


CHAPTER    XX, 

Henry  Ward  Beecher.  Plymouth  Church.  Appearance 
and  Style  of  the  Preacher.  Sketch  of  Rev.  Hugh 
McNeile,  of  Liverpool 221 


|, .     CHAPTER    XXI. 

A  Cluster  of  Churches.  Mount  Yemen  Church.  The 
Choir.  Congregational  Singing.  lie  Rev.  E.  N.  Kirk. 
Sketch  of  the  Hon.  and  Rev.  Baptist  W.  Noel 236 


PULPIT  PORTRAITS; 

OR, 

P  E  N-P«  T  U  R  E  S 


CHAPTER  I. 

EARLY  RECOLLECTIONS.  A  DULL  PREACHER.  REMINIS- 
CENCES OF  PULPIT  ORATORS.  A  WORD  OR  TWO  ABOUT 
WHAT  IS  TO  COME. 

I  HAVE  always  been  a  lover  of  eloquence.  No  matter 
whether  it  iM|ed  from  the  pulpit  or  the  platform ;  from 
the  calm  elevation  of  the  sacred  desk,  or  the  stormy 
surface  of  the  political  hustings,  it  had  an  indescribable 
attraction  for  me.  If  I  entertained  any  preference  in 
the  matter,  I  believe  the  fervid  outpourings  of  religious 
orators  were  the  most  prized  JJ^luc  in  the  days  of  my 
boyhood. 

How  this  taste  or  passion,  for  at  one  period,  it  really 
amounted  to  such  an  exaggeration  of  feeling,  arose,  I 
cannot  tell.  Certainly  it  was  not  called  into  existence 
by  the  weekly  ministrations  of  the  very  good,  but  very 
dull  preacher  who  officiated  as  pastor  of  the  church  of 
which  my  parents  were  then  members.  Child  as  I  was, 
1 


2  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  OR, 

when  I  used,  in  accordance  with  my  beloved  father's 
^pleas  of  family  discipline,  to  go  unwillingly,  Sunday  after 

Sunday,  to  C Chapel,  I  well  remember  that  I  often 

felt  weariness,  if  not   disgust,  while   listening  to   Mr. 

H 's  heavy  discourses.     I  can  see   him  now,  and 

call  up  again  the  whole  chapel  scene,  just  as  it  was  in 

those  days  of  "  long  ago^g^ir.  H was  a  large, 

fat  man,  with  a  red,  exprelBiless  face,  a  partially  bald 
head,  and  very  little  medullary  matter  of  any  conse- 
quence beneath  its  highly  polished  surface.  This  lack 
of  hair,  he  once,  at  the  persuasion  of  his  wife,  I  believe, 
attempted  to  supply  with  a  "  front,"  or  fragment  of  a 
wig.  The  poor  man  used  to  perspire  freely,  and  the 
only  pleasure  he  ever  afforded  me  was  the  unconscious 
displacement  of  this  "  front"  by  his  pocket  handker- 
chief, as  he  swept  the  latter  across  his  moist  forehead. 
The  flock  tittered,  but  the  shepherd,  with  his  "  front" 
adorning  one  side,  went  on  preaching  untitte  discovered 
his  disaster,  and  confusedly  removing  tne  cause  of  it 
hurried  it  into  his  coat  pocket.  He  never  wore  false 
hair  again. 

How  terribly  tedious  were  his  sermons  to  me.  The 
only  consolation  I  fAmd  was  in  Watts's  hymn  book, 
which  by  stealth  I  consulted  in  my  pew  corner.  Wha* 
a  joy  and  a  relief  it  was  when  on  a  wet  Sunday  evening 
I  was  permitted  to  stay  at  home  with  my  mother,  who 
had  a  fine  taste  for  poetry,  and  loved  to  repeat  hymns  to 
me.  .1  see  myself  now  sitting  beside  the  parlor  fire,  on 
a  carpet-covered  footstool,  whilst  the  flames  were  brightly 
reflected  from  the  Dutch  tiles  which  lined  the  fireplace, 


PEN-PICTURES.  3 

and  flickered  on  the  golden  pipes  of  the  little  chamber 
organ,  that  had  one  "  barrel"  of  sacred  tunes  for  Sab- 
bath days ;  and  on  the  frames  of  the  portraits  of  my 
brothers  and  sisters ;  and  listening  to  her  soft  gentle 
voice  as  she  read  Bible  narratives,  or  Doddridge's 
hymns,  (Philip  Doddridge's  mother  used  to  teach  her 
son  Scripture  stories  from  Dutch  tiles,  too ;)  or  as  she 
would  tell  me  of  Mrs.  Hannah  More,  whom  she  well  knew, 
and  of  Mrs.  Newton,  (the  sister  of  Thomas  Chatterton, 
the  "marvellous  boy"  of  Wordsworth)  who  had  been 
her  schoolmistress ;  and  she  would  sing  in  her  low  pleas- 
ant voice,  hymns  which  I  now  never  listen  to,  but  the 
days  when  I  first  heard  them  come  back  again.  More 
than  thirty  years  have  passed  since  then ;  but  neither 
life's  storms  nor  calms  have  banished  from  my  heart,  and 
they  never  will,  these  home  memories. 

What  a  pleasure,  too,  it  was  to  me,  when  occasionally 
my  father,  wh%was  a  deacon  of  the  church,  would  come 
home  from  a  week-evening  service  with  the  intelligence 
that  a  stranger  was  to  preach  on  the  following  Sunday, 
Any  change  to  me  seemed  a  change  for  the  better.  I 
think  now  as  I  thought  then,  that  it  could  not  well  be 
for  the  worse.  At  such  times  my  flight  was  increased 
by  the  prospect  of  a  personal  acquaintance  with  the  new 
preacher,  who  my  father,  by  virtue  of  his  office,  fre- 
quently entertained  at  his  table.  Even  then  I  was  a  bit 
of  a  hero  worshipper  ;  and  I  was  thus  afforded  opportuni- 
ties of  seeing  and  hearing  some  of  the  notabilities  of 
that  day.  As  I  grew  older,  these  facilities  became  more 
frequent  and  were  greatly  prized,  especially  as  I  became 


4  PULPIT   PORTRAITS:    OR, 

a  sort  of  favorite  with  our  visitors,  chiefly,  I  believe, 
because  I  possessed  a  good  memory,  and  so  could  readily 
quote  the  "  heads"  of  sermons  when  required.  For 
this  accomplishment  I  used  to  get  many  an  approving 
pat  on  the  head  from  the  reverend  gentlemen,  and  I 
have  no  reason  to  doubt  that  I  rose  considerably  in  my 
own  estimation  in  consequence.  But  there  were  some 
who  used  to  notice  me,  of  whose  commendations,  a  child, 
or  one  of  larger  growth,  might  not  without  reason  be 
proud. 

Among  these,  I  well  remember  one  who  now  occupies 
a  foremost  station  in  the  ranks  of  London  preachers. 
This  gentleman  was  then  a  young,  thin,  delicate,  curly 
headed  student  of  Divinity,  with  a  soft,  pleasant  voice, 
and  a  smile  that  was  fascination  itself.  At  that  period 
he  could  not  have  been  more  than  nineteen  or  twenty 
years  of  age,  but  already  he  had  become  popular. 
Every  week,  almost,  he  took  tea  at  our  i^ble  ;  and  by 
me  his  coming  was  looked  for  anxiously,  and  his  appear- 
ance hailed  with  delight.  He  did  not  as  our  old  pastor 
used  to  do,  bore  my  childish  mind  with  grave,  almost  dis- 
mal lectures  on  religion,  which  I  could  understand  just 
enough  of  to  be  frigllftned  by ;  but  he  gently  led  me  by 
the  "still  waters"  of  piety,  and  charmed  whilst  he  in- 
structed. This  was  JAMES  SHERMAN,  now  the  successor 
of  Rowland  Hill,  at  the  Surrey  Chapel,  Blackfriar's 
Road,  London,  and  the -pastor  of  the  largest  church  in 
the  British  metropolis.  Fully  has  his  now  more  than 
middle  age  confirmed  the  promise  of  his  youth.  By  the 
young  he  is  still  almost  idolized,  as  he  was  in  the  early 


PJEX-PICTUllES.  5 

part  of  his  career.  Time  has  thinned  and  streaked  with 
grey  his  flowing  hair,  and  spectacles  intimate  that  the 
bright  eyes  are  less  capable  of  performing  their  visual 
office  than  of  yore  ;  but  his  warm  heart  has  lost  none  of 
its  benevolent  pulsations,  and  his  watchful  eye  none  of 
its  looks  of  love. 

Mr.  Sherman  was  a  prime  favorite  of  my  childhood, 
as  he  now  is  of  my  "  older  day."  Reader  of  these 
reminiscences,  should  you  visit  London,  go  and  hear 
him,  and  my  word  for  it,  you  will  not  be  disappointed. 
Hereafter,  I  may  have  to  speak  further  of  him;  at 
present  I  must  go  on  with  this  half  autobiographical 
chapter. 

Time  flew  on.  The  old  pastor  of  whom  I  spoke,  at 
length  tired  out  his  hearers,  so  that  his  congregation 
dwindled  down  to  a  few  dozen.  Oh  !  those  dreary  Sun- 
day services,  during  which  I  used  to  gaze  on  a  wilder- 
ness of  deserted  pews,  and  listen,  perforce,  to  the  mel- 
ancholy echoes  of  the  church  choir !  If  I  had  not  been 
kept  in  strict  subjection,  I  should  have  run  in  disgust 
from  the  chapel.  As  it  was,  many  were  the  excuses  I 
invented  for  going  to  hear  some  other  preacher  in  the 

city.  At  length  the  farewell  sermon  of  Mr.  H was 

preached,  and  I  was  taken  to  his  vestry  after  the  dis- 
course, to  bid  him  good-bye.  Some  of  the  women  mem- 
bers were  weeping,  and  I  suppose  some  soft  portion  of 
my  heart  caught  the  infection,  and  I  blubbered  also, 
young  hypocrite  that  I  was,  for  the  certainty  that  I 
should  have  to  listen  to  no  more  dull  thumpinga  of  his 
ecclesiastical  drum,  filled  my  heart  with  delight. 


6  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  OR, 

It  so  happened  that  the  city  of  Bristol,  in  which 
these  scenes  occurred,  was  more  than  usually  fortunate 
at  that  period,  in  possessing  great  preachers.  But  this 
fact  added  much  to  my  annoyance,  for  I  well  knew  that 
whilst  I  was  listening  to  prosy  sermons,  within  a  few 
streets'  length,  several  of  England's  most  gifted  men, 
and  one  who  was  on  all  hands  acknowledged  to  be  the 
"  prince  of  modern  preachers,"  were  delighting  and 
edifying  their  hearers.  That  time,  indeed,  constituted 
the  Augustan  age  of  Bristol ;  the  city  was  a  positive 
reservoir  of  ministerial  talent,  and  to  it,  as  unto  a  centre 
of  attraction,  were  drawn  those  who,  either  from  feelings 
born  of  piety,  or  from  motives  of  mere  curiosity,  desired 
to  hear  the  "  outpourings"  of  pulpit  magnates. 

From  a  volume  of  mine,  recently  published  in  Lon- 
don, I  may  perhaps  be  permitted  to  extract  the  follow- 
ing, which  will  afford  some  idea  of  those  palmy  days  of 
dissent  in  my  native  city : 

Men,  universally  acknowledged  by  their  contempora- 
ries to  be  "  arbiters  of  taste,  and  masters  of  opinion," 
thought  it  not  beneath  them  to  resort  to  Broadmead 
Chapel,  to  hear  the  pure  streams  of  "  English,  unde- 
nted,"  which  every  Sabbath  day  flowed  from  the  elo- 
quent lips  of  Robert  Hall.  In  a  pew  of  that  meeting- 
house, which  has  been  rendered  famous  by  its  pastors, 
might  often  have  been  seen  Sir  James  Mackintosh  and 
Henry  Brougham  —  Plunket,  too,  was  a  visitor  there  ; 
and  he  dsclared  that,  until  he  heard  Hall,  the  prince  of 
preachers,  he  did  not  know  what  preaching  really  was. 

Besides  Hall,  there  were  at  that  time  other  ministers 


FEN-PICTURES.  7 

of  mark ;  men  who,  though  they  did  not  shine  with  a 
brilliance  equal  to  that  of  the  great  luminary,  were  not 
extinguished  by  its  flood  of  splendor.  Little  disparage- 
ment is  it  to  the  present  occupants  of  the  pulpits  of 
Bristol  to  assert ,  that  the  palmy  days  of  preaching  in 
that  ancient  city  have  passed  away.  An  Augustan  age 
comes  not  twice.  Estimable  and  talented  are  the  men 
of  whom  we  shall  presently  speak ;  and  possibly  they 
may  be  more  useful  preachers  than  the  departed  wor- 
thies, so  far  as  relates  to  "  the  million,"  but  that  the 
mantles  of  Hall  and  some  of  his  contemporaries  have 
fallen  on  their  shoulders,  no  one,  we  imagine,  will  be 
inclined  to  assert. 

Well  do  we  remember .  Robert  Hall.  As  we  write 
these  memorials,  the  living  man  seems  to  stand  before 
us  just  as  he  appeared  in  the  pulpit  in  old  times.  The 
grand  and  capacious  forehead  —  bare,  on  its  lofty  sum- 
mit ;  the  sparkling,  yet  solemn  eyes,  lighted  up  as  he  gives 
utterance  to  the  splendid  creations  of  his  powerful  intel- 
lect ;  the  rather  short  nose,  the  large  mouth,  the  broad 
lower  portion  of  the  face,  and  the  double  chin,  are 
vividly  apparent,  as  is  the  broad  and  ample  chest, 
pressed  against  the  pulpit ;  and  the  hands  —  one  gently 
raised  from  the  Bible,  the  other  resting  on  the  page. 
The  whole  man,  indeed,  is  depictured  in  our  memory. 
Our  ear  also  receives  anew  echoes  of  tones  long  since 
uttered ;  the  weak  voice,  the  hesitating  sentences  at  the 
commencement  of  the  sermon,  the  continuous  flow  of 
musical  language  as  it  proceeded,  and  the  almost  jubi- 
lant tones  with  which  it  ceased. 


8  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  OR, 

Another  of  the  Bristol  "  celebrities"  was  John  Foster, 
the  well  known  author  of  the  "  Essays,"  and  one  of  the 
most  profound  thinkers  of  modern  times.  An  eminent 
minister  recently  said  to  us,  when  we  introduced  his 
name  in  the  course  of  conversation  — "  Ah!  sir,  Foster 
was  a  man  without  a  heart."  We  do  not  agree  with 
him.  A  heartless  man  would  not  have  written  as  the 
great  Essay est  wrote.  A  heartless  man  would  not  have 
shunned  hollow  popularity,  and  found  his  chief  delight 
in  preaching  in  the  cottages  of  the  poor,  as  Foster  did. 
Tt  is  true,  that  owing  to  the  peculiar  constitution  of  his 
mind,  he  was  prone  to  look  at  most  things  through 
gloomy  media,  and  that  his  imagination  was  almost  al- 
ways morbidly  tinged ;  but  the  few  who  knew  him  best, 
arid  loved  him  most,  agree  in  declaring  that  no  man  pos- 
sessed more  generous  sympathies,  or  kindlier  impulses. 
Mr.  Foster  seldom  preached  in  Bristol,  but  when  he  did, 
\t  was  an  "  event."  Every  one  went  to  hear  him,  im- 
pelled by  the  same  sort  of  curiosity  as  that  which  made 
the  literary  people  of  eighty  years  since  throng  Mrs. 
Thrales's  rooms,  in  order  to  hear  Dr.  Johnson  talk. 
Church  people  and  dissenters,  clergymen  and  Methodist 
parsons,  Unitarians  and  Baptists,  sat  side  by  side,  pre- 
senting a  rather  startling  spectacle,  especially  in  a  city 
where  considerable  animosity  then  existed  between  the 
members  of  different  sects.  The  personal  appearance 
of  the  preacher  was  singular  enough;  he  resembled 
rather  a  country  farmer,  than  a  minister  of  the  gospel 
and  an  eminent  writer.  As  he  mounted  the  pulpit 
stairs,  you  saw  before  you  a  stout  personage,  in  an  un- 


PEN-PICTURES.  9 

mistakable  wig,  which  the  renowned  Truefit  never  could 
have  turned  out  of  his  establishment ;  a  wig,  pointed  at 
its  summit,  the  shape  of  the  forehead  being  rather  pyra- 
midal. The  eyebrows  were  large,  black,  and  bushy,  and 
the  eyes  beneath,  dark,  bright,  and  keen.  These,  how- 
ever, were  half  concealed  by  a  pair  of  huge  circular- 
rimmed  silver  spectacles,  which  rested  on  a  long  nose. 
From  the  partial  absence  of  teeth,  the  mouth  was  some- 
what retracted,  but  its  angles  had  what  John  Keats 
calls,  a  "  downward  drag  austere. "  A  blue,  old-fash- 
ioned coat,  with  huge  skirts  and  ample  pockets  outside, 
and  decorated  with  large  brass  buttons ;  a  black  waist- 
coat ;  drab  small-clothes,  arid  top  boots,  with  a  thickly- 
rolled  neckcloth,  completed  John  Foster's  costume  ;  and, 
certainly,  anything  more  unprofessional  could  scarcely  be 
imagined.  But  all  this  singularity  of  appearance  was 
forgotten  when  the  great  man  commenced  his  prayer, 
which  itself  was,  as  a  lady  once  observed,  "  one  of  Mr. 
Foster's  essays  which  we  stand  up  to ; "  and  then  his 
sermons !  At  first  the  text  was  mumbled  out,  and  one 
was  apt  to  feel  something  like  disappointment ;  but  that 
feeling  quickly  passed  away  as  the  preacher  proceeded. 
To  give  anything  like  a  verbal  description  of  Foster's 
style  would  be  next  to  an  impossibility,  and,  therefore, 
we  shall  not  attempt  the  almost  hopeless  task. 

William  Thorpe  was,  literally  and  figuratively,  another 
great  Bristol  preacher.  Of  Elephantine  dimensions,  he 
literally  filled  the  pulpit  of  Castle  Green.  His  forte 
was  the  exposition  of  mystical  texts ;  and  on  certain  oc- 
casions, where  time  was  allowed  him  for  preparation,  ho 


10  PULPIT   PORTRAITS  :    OR, 

was  highly  impressive.  lie  was,  however,  far  from  being 
an  original  preacher.  To  compensate  for  this,  his 
memory,  like  his  person,  was  "  prodigious,"  and  this 
constituted  the  great  and  unfailing  bank  on  which  ho 
drew.  Robert  Hall  said  of  him  that  he  was  a  reservoir, 
not  a  fountain  ;  and  he  was  right.  This  fact  renders 
his  few  published  works  all  but  valueless,  there  being 
little  in  them  which  may  not  be  found  in  previously  pub- 
lished standard  works.  His  name  lives  in  the  affection- 
ate remembrance  of  many  friends ;  but  his  fame  as  an 
orator  perished,  when  for  the  last  time  he  quitted  the 
pulpit. 

In  the  neighboring  city  of  Bath,  too,  there  was  an- 
other great  attraction,  for  a  young  and  enthusiastic  mind 
such  as  mine.  There  William  Jay  preached,  and  few 
have  not  heard  of  that  remarkable  man,  who  yet  sur- 
vives, the  last  unquenched  star  of  the  constellation  of 
sacred  orators  who  shone  in  all  their  brilliance  twenty 
years  ago.  Very  often  did  he  visit  Bristol  for  the  pur- 
pose of  preaching  Anniversary  Sermons,  arid  never  did 
I  fail  to  hear  him  on  such  occasions.  His  personal  ap- 
pearance was  very  striking  ;  but  let  me  again  quote  from 
my  London  volume : 

"  There  is  something  in  the  massive  head  of  Mr.  Jay, 
which  reminds  one,  at  times,  of  the  grand  old  head  of 
some  ancient  statue  of  Jupiter ;  it  is  large,  and  abund- 
antly covered  with  silvery  hair  which,  sweeping  from  one 
of  the  temples,  discloses  a  splendid  forehead.  The  eyes 
are  peculiar,  being  dark,  extremely  bright  and  lively, 
and  of  a  most  searching  expression.  Eyebrows  large, 


PEX-PIOTURES.  11 

of  a  darkish  grey,  overshadow  these  "  windows  of  the  - 
soul,'*  as  some  old  writer  has  called  them.  The  nose  is 
short,  and  not  classically  formed,  and  the  mouth  is,  if 
anything,  a  trifle  too  large  for  the  connoisseur  in  such 
matters.  A  double  chin  fades  imperceptibly  away  into 
a  short  neck,  which  is  connected  with,  as  we  before  in- 
timated, a  broad,  expansive  chest. 

"  Taken  as  a  whole,  the  face  is  an  extremely  fine  one ; 
and  stamped  as  it  now  is  with  the  radiance  of  a  good 
old  age,  few  can  behold  it  without  a  reverential  feeling. 
It  is  capable  of  a  great  variety  of  expression,  and  so 
does  it  change  with  the  changes  of  the  preacher's  sub- 
ject, that  an  intelligent  deaf  person  once  told  me,  he 
"  could  almost  understand  Mr.  Jay's  sermon,  by  the 
mere  looking  at  him."  Deep  pathos,  genuine  humor, 
sly  sarcasm,  biting  irony,  or  boundless  benevolence,  are 
by  turns  indicated.  As  we  sometimes  behold  on  a  hill- 
side, now  the  shifting  shadows  made  by  the  clouds  sail- 
ing above  ;  and  anon,  behold  bright  patches  of  sunlight, 
where  gloom  had  been  but  a  moment  before ;  so  on  the 
countenance  of  the  subject  of  our  sketch,  the  mind's 
varied  emotions  are  alternately  depicted,  and  each  so 
imperceptibly  blends  with  the  other,  that,  though  fully 
conscious  of  the  changes,  we  do  not  discern  the  precise 
moment  when  those  fine  transitions  of  thought  and  ex- 
pression occur. 

"  The  style  of  Mr.  Jay  is  one  exclusively  his  own. 
He  imitates  no  one ;  and  no  preacher  whom  I  have 
ever  heard,  resembles  him.  Usually,  he  commences  his 
sermons  with  some  abrupt,  terse  aphorism,  which  would 

'^-^l^v 

•  wVt 


12  I'ULPIT  POKTiiAITS:    OB, 

seem  to  have  little  to  do  with  his  subject,  and  which 
sometimes,  indeed,  has  nothing  in  connection  with  it. 
He  is  not  rapid  in  his  delivery,  but  rather  the  reverse ; 
his  sentences  are  delivered  with  great  emphasis.  His 
discourses  may  sometimes  be  almost  called  coversational, 
for  he  talks  to  people  as  well  as  at  them.  Occasionally 
he  produces  a  prodigious  effect  by  a  solemn  strain  of 
eloquence,  immediately  following  some  remarks  which 
had,  spite  the  sanctity  of  the  place,  provoked  a  smile ; 
for  as  in  the  case  of  Rowland  Hill,  he  has  a  flow  of  wit 
which  cannot  always  be  restrained.  But  he  never  de- 
scends to  buffoonery,  nor  profanes  the  pulpit  by  low  jests. 
No  man  feels  more  than  he  does,  that  when  in  the  sacred 
desk  he  stands  on  sacred  ground.  His  occasional  ser- 
mons are  models  of  this  kind ;  at  such  times,  it  is  not 
an  uncommon  practice  of  his,  to  select  rather  peculiar 
texts — take  for  instance,  his  funeral  sermon  for  Rowland 
Hill,  when  he  chose  as  the  motto  of  his  discourse,  the 
words  c  Howl !  fir  trees,  for  the  cedar  has  fallen !' >: 

If  Robert  Hall  was  the  prince,  Jay  is  the  patriarch 
of  London  preachers.  "  His  life,"  says  a  recent  writer, 
"•has  been  a  most  interesting  one  from  boyhood  upward, 
speaking  constantly  to  the  people;  and  now  we  touch 
his  name  with  hallowing  feelings.  * 

He  is  indeed  the  representative  of  an  ancient  race  of 
preachers,  without  the  remotest  pretensions  to  scholar- 
ship, or  to  extraordinary  powers  of  thought ;  he  belongs 
to  the  race  of  which  Matthew  Henry  and  Scott  were 
the  greatest  expositors  and  leaders." 

Three  years  ago  I  heard  William  Jay  preach  in  Sur- 


PEN-PICTURES.  13 

rey  Chapel  before  the  London  Missionary  Society,  and 
few  passages  of  personal  import  can  be  more  interesting 
than  the  account  of  his  ministry  which  I  took  down  in 
short  hand  as  it  fell  from  his  lips.  I  will  take  the  liberty 
of  quoting  it  here : 

"  Six  days  ago  I  entered  on  my  eighty-third  year. 
When  I  first  ascended  these  steps  with  trembling  knees, 
I  was  not  nineteen. 

*  Many  changes  have  pass'd  since  then ; 
Many  changes  I  have  seen ; 
Yet  have  been  upheld  till  now ; 
Who  could  hold  me  up  but  Thou  ? ' 

"  Perhaps  there  are  few,  if  any,  persons  here  this 
morning  who  heard  my  first  address  then,  from  the 
words  of  the  Apostle  —  *  God  forbid  that  I  should  glory, 
save  in  the  cross  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.'  I  was  then 
young  and  tender.  The  work  was  great,  and  the  Lord 
was  pleased  to  afford  assistance,  and  give  me  very  con- 
siderable acceptance.  So  that  I  remember,  when  I  had 
been  taking  my  leave  of  the  congregation  here  in  my 
farewell  sermon,  still  the  crowd  remained  in  the  chapel- 
yard  here  and  refused  to  disperse,  till  I  opened  the  par- 
lor window  and  addressed  them  again.  From  that  time, 
for  half  a  century,  I  annually  served  this  chapel  for 
eight  Sabbaths  for  many  years,  and  then  foi  six  and  then 
for  four.  I  cannot  accurately  calculate,  but  I  must 
have  spent  three  hundred  Sabbaths  within  these  walls, 
while  my  sermons  or  service  s  have  been  no  less  than 
fifteen  hundred.  You  see,  therefore,  that  my  ministry 
2 


14  PULPIT  PORTRAITS  :    OR, 

must  have  been  very  much  affected  by  this  place,  and  I 
feel  many  responsibilities,  at  this  moment,  arising  from 
it.  At  length  I  gave  up  my  annual  assistance  here,  not 
from  any  dissatisfaction  on  either  side,  but  from  the  want 
of  some  recreation  and  leisure  which  I  had  never  enjoyed 
till  then,  and  also  from  a  conviction  that  my  remaining 
extra  labors  should  be  devoted  to  the  country,  for  you  in 
London  will  always  be  rich  enough  ;  you  will  always,  by 
fair  or  foul  means,  secure  all  the  assistance  you  need. 
I  therefore  devoted  the  remainder  of  my  life  to  labor- 
ing in  the  country  and  in  my  own  usual  sphere  of  labor 
there. 

"  I  have  borne  the  pastoral  office  for  upwards  of  sixty 
years,  during  which  time  my  church  has  been  three  times 
enlarged,  and  the  congregation  remains  as  large  as  ever. 

I  have  preached  much,  especially  in  my  younger  days, 
in  villages,  where  I  have  found  great  delight.  I  have 
also  frequently  preached,  especially  on  public  occasions, 
for  various  denominations,  without  offending  others,  or 
without  violating  my  own  convictions.  Such  is  now  the 
general  accordance  and  harmony  of  all  the  parties  who 
hold  the  truth — who  hold  the  Head  (whatever  may  be 
their  difference  in  other  respects,) — that  though  the 
barriers  are  not  yet  removed,  (and  I  do  not  know  that 
it  is  desirable  that  they  should  be  removed,)  yet  they 
have  been  lowered  enough  to  enable  us  to  see  each  other 
over  them,  and  to  shake  hands  together ;  and  there  are 
now  several  little  holes,  through  which  we  may  pass  and 
return,  in  aiding  one  another,  in  these  services,  and  on 
these  occasions. 


PEN-PICTURES.  15 

"  I  knew  many  of  the  second  generation,  and  some 
of  the  first  generation  of  Methodists ;  and  can  make, 
therefore,  a  comparison  between  things  then  and  things 
now,  as  to  the  profession,  and  as  to  the  preaching,  and 
character  of  the  preachers  now  and  then.  I  have  often 
quoted  the  words  of  the  prophet,  — '  My  soul  desired 
the  first-ripe  fruit.'  Oh!  there  was  something  about 
those  early  converts  that  was  very  peculiar.  They 
were  simple-hearted  Christians,  dead  to  the  world,  but 
all  alive  in  their  love  to  God !  But  I  am  not  going  to 
deprecate  the  present  preachers,  and  the  present  state 
of  things.  I  am  persuaded  we  have  improved  in  some 
things ;  improved  in  many  things.  I  should  think  my- 
self very  ungrateful  if  I  were,  on  just  going  off  the 
stage,  to  ask,  6  Why  were  the  former  days  better  than 
these  ? '  for  I  should  '  not  inquire  wisely  concerning  this 
matter.' 

"  Finally,  in  relation  to  this  Institution.  I  attended, 
first,  some  of  the  private  meetings  for  preparing  a  public 
exhibition.  I  was  happy  enough  to  hear  and  attend 
the  first  public  convocation.  I  preached  one  of  the  first 
annual  sermons  at  Tottenham  Court  Chapel.  It  is  de- 
lightful to  me  to  think,  and  it  will  encourage  you  to  be 
informed,  that  the  sermon  was  of  good,  in  being  the 
means  of  the  conversion  of  one  of  the  most  worthy  and 
valuable  and  excellent  of  men ;  I  refer  to  our  late  friend 
Mr.  Hyatt,  who  preached  for  your  Institution,  and  who 
has  always  held  it  very  near  his  heart.  And  how  many 
sermons  I  have  preached  for  it  I  cannot  say.  I  have  not 


16  PULPIT  PORTKAITS:    OB, 

been  a  friend  to  the  platform  —  God  having  graciously 
pleased  to  deny  me  that  privilege.  • 

"  I  hope  these  grey  locks  will  excuse  this  little  gar- 
rulity. It  is  not  probable  that  I  shall  have  another 
opportunity  of  addressing  you  again,  at  least  on  such  a 
public  occasion  as  this.  I  had  better,  therefore,  take 
my  leave  of  you.  '  Wherefore,  my  beloved  brethren, 
be  ye  steadfast,  unmovable,  always  abounding  in  the 
work  of  the  Lord,  forasmuch  as  ye  know  that  your  labor 
is  not  in  vain  in  the  Lord.' 

" f  The  Lord  bless  you,  and  keep  you !  The  Lord 
cause  His  face  to  shine  upon  you,  and  be  gracious  unto 
you!  The  Lord  lift  up  the  light  of  His  countenance 
upon  you,  and  give  you  His  peace  ! ' " 

Rowland  Hill,  too,  was  one  of  the  great  guns  of  dis- 
sent in  my  young  days  ;  but  I  only  heard  him  once,  and 
I  am  almost  sorry  now  that  I  saw  him  at  all,  for  the 
mere  wreck  of  a  preacher  was  presented  to  my  view. 
There  he  sat,  (after  tottering  up  the  pulpit  stairs, 
clutching,  with  his  bony  hands,  the  rail,  as  he  ascended,) 
in  a  high  chair  —  for  he  was  far  too  feeble  to  stand  —  a 
painful  picture  of  drivelling  senility.  Yet,  there  was 
some  of  the  old  fire  left,  and  it  blazed  up  now  and  then. 
He  was  what  people  call  "  funny"  by  fits  and  starts, 
and  it  was  sickening  to  see  broad  grins  on  the  faces  of 
people  who  should  have  known  better.  The  good  old 
author  of  the  "Village  Dialogues"  died  very  shortly 
afterwards. 

Once,  during  my  youth,  Edward  Irving  paid  a  flying 


PEN-PICTURES.  17 


visit  to  Bristol.  That  visit  constituted  an  era  in  my  ex- 
istence. Again  I  look  on  that  extraordinary  pulpit 
comet  as  it  swept  into  my  ken,"  blazed  for  a  brief  period 
and  departed,  leaving  me  in  a  state  of  wondering  admi- 
ration. Once  more  I  look  on  that  magnificent  head, 
whose  raven  locks 

"  Streamed,  like  a  meteor  on  the  troubled  air;" 

on  those  remarkable  eyes,  whose  very  obliquity  added 
power  to  their  expression ;  on  that  figure,  which  in  its 
wild  contortions  reminded  me  of  one  "  possessed.'*  And 
those  solemn  tones  of  his  voice  often  reverberate  through 
the  chambers  of  memory  like  a  sound  and  warning  of 
doom !  Shall  I  ever  forget  that  discourse  of  Irving's  ? 
Oration  it  might  rather  be  called,  but  that  word  is,  now- 
a-days,  applied  to  such  paltry  speeches,  that  I  have 
grown  sick  of  using  it.  No  one  now  blows  his  political 
or  polemical  penny  trumpet,  without  fancying  that  Cice- 
ro's instrument  was  made  for  him  to  play  upon.  Ora- 
tions, indeed  !  I  know  not  which  most  to  be  surprised 
at,  the  vapid  nonsense,  so  styled  by  the  blustering 
Boanerges  of  our  time  ;  the  matchless  impudence  of  the 
individuals  who  pour  it  into  the  public  ear ;  or  the  as- 
tounding "  swallow"  of  the  listeners  to  such  "  sound  and 
fury  —  signifying  nothing." 

So  much  by  way  of  introduction ;  and  now  let  me  ad- 
dress myself  more  particularly  to  the  design  I  have 
formed  with  respect  to  this  series  of  articles.  And 
here,  at  the  very  commencement  of  my  task,  an  attempt 
to  portray,  in  pen  and  ink,  something  both  of  the  men. 
and  the  minds  of  persons  who  occupy  prominent  pulpit 
2* 


18  PULriT   PORTRAITS:    OR, 

positions,  I  maybe  met  by  the  inquiry  —  "And  pray, 
by  what  right  do  you  assume  to  yourself  the  office  of 
critic  ?  "  or,  "  Do  you  think  it  proper  or  prudent  to  visit 
a  church  for  the  purpose  of  sketching  the  minister?" 
I  reply  that  public  men  are  public  property,  and 
amenable  to  fair  criticism ;  —  none  other  shall  I  write. 
I  hate  flippant  and  vulgar  personalities  as  much  as  any 
one,  but  I  contend  that  I  have  as  much  right  to  comment 
on  a  minister's  style,  manner,  and  characteristics,  as  he 
has  to  address  his  observations  to  my  heart  and  con- 
science. Believing  that  the  pulpit  of  a  country  in  no 
mean  degree  represents  the  condition  of  its  mental  and 
moral  society,  may  I  not  say  a  word  upon  it ;  upon  the 
men  who  fill  it ;  upon  its  influence  and  its  destinies  ?  I 
shall  take  care  to  say  nought  that  may  with  cause  offend, 
or  hurt  the  feeling  of  any ;  but  at  the  same  time  I  shall 
speak  candidly  and  truthfully,  fearlessly  and  frankly  of 
all. 

With  every  disposition  to  speak  respectfully  of  the 
pulpit  in  this  age,  I  may  say  that  I  by  no  means  intend 
to  distribute  my  praise  equally  over  all  the  pulpit  teach- 
ers ;  for  some,  indeed,  I  can  feel  but  a  small  measure 
of  respect.  The  whole  of  the  worth  of  the  pulpit  is 
jeoparded  by  the  conduct  of  men  who  strangely  forget 
the  character  of  modern  intelligence,  and  the  width  and 
depth  of  modern  information  ;  the  supercilious  sneer,  the 
currish,  barking,  dogmatic  tone  of  some,  is  known  to  all 
of  us ;  men  there  are  who  fancy  that  their  being  set 
apart  to  a  sacred  office,  is  a  diploma  and  warranty  for 
the  treatment  of  all  persons  not  in  the  ministry,  with 


PEN-PICTURES.  19 

dogmatism  and  disrespect.  Then  we  have  elegant  lack- 
adaisycalness,  —  oh,  how  many  a  head  more  remarkable 
for  the  hair  upon  it,  than  for  the  brains  within  it !  How 
few  have  felt  the  glorious  agonizing  determination  to 
speak  the  words  of  truth  to  their  fellow  men  at  all  haz- 
ards. It  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  vanity,  that  idle- 
ness, that  the  idea  of  a  life  of  literary  elegance,  have 
frequently  more  to  do  with  the  selection  of  the  pulpit 
for  a  profession,  than  the  convictions  of  the  littleness  of 
Time,  and  the  vastness  of  Eternity ! 

It  has  often  struck  me,  and  doubtless  other  persons 
too,  that  congregations  have  distinct  characteristics,  as 
well  as  their  ministers.  Audiences  frequently  reflect 
the  character  of  the  preacher  ;  the  preacher  reflects  his 
audience.  Therefore,  shall  I  have  something  now  and 
then  to  say  of  the  people  who  listen,  as  well  as  of  the 
persons  who  preach.  Seated  in  some  snug  corner, 
wrapped  in  my  venerable  claret-colored  coat,  I  shall  take 
many  a  note. 

"  And  faith  !  I'll  print  it ; "  but  I  will  do  so  good- 
humoredly  at  all  events,  so  that,  in  case  of  a  "  find- 
fault,"  even  the  sometimes  proverbial  sensitiveness  of 
the  "choir"  shall  not  be  unduly  irritated.  Such  little 
matters  as  these  will  be  mere  accessories  of  the  "  Pen- 
Pictures,"  which  being  now  about  to  be  hung  in  the  great 
gallery  of  public  opinion,  must  patiently  abide  criticism, 
and  trust  only  to  their  truthfulness  for  commendation. 


20  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  OR, 


CHAPTER  II. 

PICTURE-MAKING  AND  WORD-SKETCHING.  A  LITERARY 
PARTY.  DEPARTED  FRIENDS.  A  SLIGHT  MISTAKE.  THE 
REV.  MR.  STOCKTON,  OF  PHILADELPHIA.  NOTICES  OF 
WM.  DAWSON  AND  ROBERT  NEWTON. 

WHENEVER  that  great  painter,  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds, 
drew  a  portrait,  it  was  always  his  endeavor  to  produce  a 
picture  also.  That  is,  not  content  with  a  mere  likeness, 
which  would  be  a  source  of  delight  to  those  only  who 
were  acquainted  with  the  original ;  he  desired  to  pro- 
duce a  composition,  which  by  the  aid  of  judicious  acces- 
sories, should  make  it  artistically  as  well  as  personally 
valuable. 

In  humble  imitation  of  so  illustrious  an  example, 
shall,  in  this  series  of  sketches,  whenever  practicable, 
introduce  "  accessories,"  in  order  to  heighten  the  effect, 
yet  not  so  as  to  damage  accuracy  of  outline  or  breadth 
of  touch.  Nor  will  this  be  a  difficult  matter ;  —  on  the 
contrary  it  will  marvellously  lighten  my  labor,  as  well  as 
constitute  an  improvement  when  it  is  completed ;  but 
shall  not  resort  to  the  stale  artistic  device  of  inserting  in 
one  corner  of  my  canvas  the  fragment  of  a  graceful 
pillar  that  shows  an  imaginary  support  for  the  lady  or 
gentleman  who  never  in  his  or  her  life  leaned  against 


PEN-PICTURES.  21 

such  an  one,  or  of  filling  up  the  other  with  a  glaring 
crimson  curtain,  edged  with  bullion  fringe  and  looped 
with  cord  and  tassel.  My  adjuncts  will  be  copied,  as 
well  as  my  principal  subjects,  "  from  the  life,"  and 
therefore  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  a  harmonious  combination 
will  be  the  result. 

During  a  brief  residence,  some  ten  years  since,  in 
the  city  of  Philadelphia,  whilst  spending  and  evening 
with  my  accomplished  friend,  the  late  William  Peter, 
himself  an  elegant  scholar  and  a  profound  critic,  the 
subject  of  clerical  poetry  was  broached.  Professor 
Walter,  who  was  present,  (as  also  was  John  C.  Neal, 
the  "  Charcoal  Sketcher,")  contended  that  clergymen 
very  seldom  produced  poetry  of  a  high  order,  and  as- 
cribed it  to  the  cramping  influence  of  collegiate  training. 
On  the  contrary,  Mr.  Peter  urged  that  some  of  the 
greatest  poets  were  divines,  and  instanced  Croly  and 
Gary,  the  translator  of  Dante.  Feeling  inclined  to  side 
with  Walter,  I  introduced  the  name  of  that  literary 
charlatan,  the  Rev.  Robert  Montgomery,  as  a  set-off  to 
those  who  had  been  just  mentioned  by  Mr.  Peter.  It 
would  be  useless  now  to  say  aught  of  the  good  humored 
controversy  which  followed,  and  I  have  only  alluded  to 
it  because  it  proved  the  means  of  my  first  hearing  of 
the"  principal  subject  of  the  present  chapter.  It  was 
Neal,  I  believe,  who  asked  me  whether  I  had  heard  Dr. 
Bethune  preach,  or  had  read  his  poems  ?  To  both 
preacher  and  poet  I  was  a  stranger,  but  from  what  was 
said  during  that  evening,  I  resolved  before  long  to  be 
ignorant  of  Dr.  Bethune  in  neither  capacity. 


22  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  OR, 

And  here  I  may  say,  en  passant,  that  of  that  pleasant 
party  of  four,  three  have  passed  "  from  sunshine  to  the 
sunless  land."  Over  the  grave  of  the  quaint  little 
"  Charcoal  Sketcher"  the  grass  has  long  waived.  Wal- 
ter, (who  more  resembled  Charles  Lamb  than  any  man 
I  ever  saw  or  heard  of,)  after  a  life  of  labor  and  toil, 
but  ill-rewarded  I  fear,  "  sleeps  well ; "  and  Peter,  full 
of  years  and  honors,  broods  over  German  mysticisms  no 
longer.  But  ten  years  and,  as  old  Defoe  has  it :  "  only 
I  alive."  Truly,  as  well  as  eloquently,  did  Burke  write  : 
— "  What  shadows  we  are,  and  what  shadows  we  pur- 
sue!" 

On  Sunday  morning,  therefore,  soon  after  this  literary 
meeting  at  Mr.  Peter's,  I  set  out  from  my  hotel  for  the 
purpose  of  hearing  Dr.  Bethune.  "  Man  proposes,  but 
God  disposes,"  and  it  was  fated  that  I  should  be  baulked 
in  my  oratorical  aim  for  that  morning,  at  least.  Now 
any  one,  who  has  first  visited  Philadelphia,  must  have 
experienced,  as  I  frequently  did,  the  utmost  difficulty  in 
steering  his  way  through  its  "  distractingly  regular" 
streets.  Laid  out,  as  they  are  in  squares,  the  thorough- 
fares intersecting  each  other  at  regular  distances,  every 
place  is  so  much  like  every  other  place,  that  it  becomes 
a  matter  of  no  small  difficulty  to  distinguish  one  from 
the  other.  Of  course  on  the  Sabbath  day  the  puzzle 
would  be  all  the  greater,  inasmuch  as  open  shops  would 
not  serve  as  land-marks.  For  some  time  I  strolled  on, 
and  at  last  seeing  a  large  church,  which  I  took  to  be 
Dr.  Bethune's,  inquired  of  a  passer  by  if  such  were  the 
case  or  not.  The  person  questioned  was  a  Quaker. 


PEN-PICTURES.  23 

"  Straight  before  thee,"  was  the  reply,  and  following  a 
string  of  church-goers,  like  myself,  in  I  went. 

This  appeal  to  the  Quaker's  topographical  knowledge, 
and  the  curtness  of  his  information,  reminds  me  of  an- 
other inquiry  which  I  made  of  some  members  of  that 
sect.  Anxious  to  see  the  grave  of  Benjamin  Franklin, 
I  sought  for  the  church-yard  in  which  his  remains  were 
interred.  Having  reason  to  believe  that  I  was  in  its 
neighborhood,  I  opened  the  glass  door  of  a  bookseller's 
store,  and  walked  in  for  the  purpose  of  inquiring  as  to 
the  particular  locality  of  which  I  was  in  search.  In  the 
middle  of  the  store  stood  three  friends,  who  seemed  to 
suspend  their  conversation  at  my  approach.  They  were, 
to  all  appearance,  the  very  straitest  of  their  sect, — 
wearing  drab  hats,  drab  coats,  drab  vests,  drab  small- 
clothes, and  drab  gaiters.  Very  lean  and  lank  were  they, 
and  each  face  looked  as  though  every  spark  of  feeling 
and  passion  had  been  drilled  out  of  its  owner  at  some 
very  remote  period  of  the  past,  and  it  was  almost  im- 
possible to  believe  that  they  ever  could  have  been  boys. 
Possibly  I  might,  with  characteristic  impatience,  have 
disturbed  the  decorum  of  the  store  by  entering  too 
hurriedly.  Be  that  as  it  may,  I  was  saluted  with  a 
blank  stare  of  mingled  curiosity  and  wonder.  Had  I 
been  the  ghost  of  the  old  Lightning-Compeller  himself,  I 
do  not  think  I  could  have  been  received  with  more  frigid 
stateliness ;  nor  had  I  suddenly  burst  into  the  burial- 
chamber  of  King  Cheops,  and  encountered  the  fixed 
eyes  of  that  mumified  inhabitant  of  the  pyramid,  should 
I  have  felt  more  chilled. 


24  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  OR, 

"  I  should  be  obliged  to  you,"  I  said,  "  if  you  would 
inform  me  how  I  could  gain  admission  to  the  church- 
yard where  Franklin  lies." 

Not  a  word  was  vouchsafed  in  reply,  and  there  I 
stood,  whilst  the  three  "  friends"  stared  at  me  so  intently 
that  I  do  not  think  there  was  a  square  inch  of  clothing 
upon  me  which  they  could  not  have  sworn  —  I  beg  par- 
don —  affirmed  to.  And  for  five  minutes  at  least  did  I 
endure  their  silent  curiosity.  To  add  to  my  embarrass- 
ment, the  young  man  behind  the  counter  stared  also,  and 
all  four  seemed  astonished  beyond  measure  at  my  pre- 
sumption. I  have  since  thought  that  my  calling  the 
burial-ground  a  cAwcA-yard,  as  we  are  used  to  do  in 
England,  petrified  them ;  but  this  must  forever  remain  a 
mystery.  The  upshot  of  it  was,  that  after  waiting  hi 
vain  full  five  minutes  for  a  polite  reply  to  a  polite  ques- 
tion, I  turned  on  my  heel  in  something  like  a  pet,  and 
left  that  place  of  starched  propriety.  Since  then  I  have 
travelled  wide  and  far  in  America,  and  save  in  this  in- 
stance I  have  never  met  with  anything  but  the  utmost 
courtesy,  even  when  my  many  inquiries  might  have  not 
unreasonably  caused  impatience,  if  not  irritation. 

Scarcely  had  I  fairly  seated  myself  in  a  pew  before 
a  minister  entered  the  pulpit,  and  the  organist  com- 
menced the  usual  voluntary.  Now,  as  the  personal  ap- 
pearance of  this  gentleman  differed  widely  from  the  ideal 
that  I  had  formed,  from  the  description  of  my  friends 
before  mentioned,  of  Dr.  Bethune,  I  began  to  think  that 
I  had  unwittingly  visited  some  other  church  than  the 
one  I  set  out  in  quest  of.  And  such  indeed  proved  to 


PEN-PICTURES.  25 

be  the  case.  As,  however,  I  hold  it  to  be  a  monstrous 
piece  of  ill-breeding,  as  well  as  a  gross  insult  to  a  min- 
ister, to  say  nothing  of  the  slight  to  the  minister's  mas- 
ter, to  leave  a  pew,  when  once  in  it,  because  my  taste 
may  not  be  exactly  suited,  I  settled  myself  comfortably 
down,  and  found  no  reason  whatever  to  regret  the  error 
which  had  brought  me  there. 

A  hymn  was  very  finely  sung,  and  then  the  minister 
rose  to  pray.  He  was  tall,  and  of  a  spare  figure.  The 
face  was  long,  the  forehead  well  developed,  and  its  sum- 
mit began  to  show  where  the  touch  of  Time  had  thinned 
the  now  grizzling  hair.  The  eyes  were  large,  light 
colored  and  very  grave  in  their  expression ;  indeed  they 
conveyed  their  character  of  sedateness  to  the  whole 
face.  The  cheeks  were  hollow,  the  nose  and  mouth 
large,  and  the  chin  long.  A  small  collar  was  turned 
down  over  a  black  silk  neckerchief,  and  a  suit  of  plainly 
made  black  completed  the  costume.  This  was  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Stockton,  the  pastor  of  the  Methodist  church  in 
which  I  was  worshipping. 

The  principal  characteristic  of  Mr.  Stockton's  preach- 
ing was  deep  solemnity.  Whatever  he  said,  came  di- 
rectly from  his  heart,  and  so  commonly  went  straight  to 
those  of  his  hearers.  His  voice  was  sonorous  and  deep, 
and  he  managed  its  inflections  with  great  tact.  I  re- 
member that  he  once  produced  a  great  impression  by 
taking  the  Eible  in  his  hands,  after  a  fine  apostrophe  to 
its  multifarious  contents,  and  in  low,  deep  tones,  alluding 
to  those  who  seldom  perused  its  inspired  pages,  twice  re- 
peated the  words,  "  Oh !  this  neglected  book !  Oh !  this 
3 


26  PULPIT   PORTRAITS:    OR, 

neglected  book ! "  These  sounds  sank  deep  into  every 
heart  —  at  least  they  did  into  mine.  Very  slow  in  his 
delivery,  there  was  nevertheless  more  thought  in  one  of 
Mr.  Stockton's  sermons  than  in  many  another  minister's 
copious  discourse.  His  action  was  subdued,  but  graceful. 
There  was  no  flash  —  no  clap-trap  —  no  straining  after 
effect.  The  source  of  his  power  was  in  his  utter  sim- 
plicity and  sincerity ;  for  he  alike  seemed  to  avoid  an 
exhibition  of  the  learning  of  the  schools,  or  the  graces 
of  finished  oratory. 

A  very  striking  contrast  did  Mr.  Stockton's  quiet, 
simple  preaching  present,  to  the  discourses  of  an  eccer 
trie    English  Wesley  an  Methodist  minister,  who  I  ha 
heard  not  long  before,  and  of  whom,  in  accordance  wit' 
my   expressed   design   of  here    and   there  introducing 
notices  of  British  Divines,   I   shall  now   give  a  brief 
sketch. 

The  last  English  preacher  of  genuine  Methodism  - 
the  last  who  from  the  conference  pulpit  spoke  in  the 
strain  of  the  old  time,  was  William  Dawson ;  or,  as  he 
was  familiarly  termed,  "  Billy,"  or  "  Farmer  Dawson," 
for  he  ploughed  as  well  as  ^preached.  He  could  give 
but  little  spiritual  aliment,  but  most  wonderfully  could 
he  rouse  the  slumbering  convictions  of  the  soul.  Coarse 
and  intolerant,  he  was  fitted  to  cleanse  rocky  hearts  ; 
unless  we  commit  ourselves  altogether  to  the  superiority 
of  the  system  which  implies  the  superior  force  of  gentle 
words,  dropping  like  the  still  rain,  or  quiet  snow,  and 
penetrating  like  them  the  most  arid  soils  and  substances. 
Dawson  truly  spoke  in  thunder  —  literally  in  thunder  — 


PEN-PICTURES.  27 

the  terrors  of  the  Lord  ever  gleamed  round  the  pulpit  in 
which  he  spoke  ;  —  he  had  but  two  words,  but  he  uttered 
them  in  a  wonderful  variety  of  cadences  —  "  Repent  or 
be  Damned."  His  was  a  style  strange  and  eccentric  in 
the  highest  degree  ;  and  when  he  preached,  strong  con- 
vulsions rocked  alike  the  pulpit  and  the  pew. 

As  a  specimen  of  his  manner,  I  will  refer  to  a  sermon 
which  he  was  fond  of  preaching ;  it  was  from  the  text, 
"  The  Lord  shut  him  in."  But  first  let  me  give  the 
reader  some  idea  of  his  personal  appearance.  He  was 
a  short,  stout  man,  with  an  iron  frame,  and  a  spare, 
massive,  red,  hard-featured  face.  No  grim  old  puritan 
could  look  grimmer  than  he.  His  head  was  covered 
with  an  old  brown  "scratch"  wig.  On  his  shoulders 
and  back  hung  a  wretchedly  fitting  coat  of  blue,  with 
brass  buttons.  A  common  farmer's  vest  and  knee- 
breeches,  with  top  boots,  completed  his  outer  man ;  and 
as  he  walked  up  the  chapel  aisle  he  firmly  grasped  a 
sturdy  cudgel,  which  he  would  deposit  at  the  stair-foot. 
Nothing  would  be  more  unprofessional  than  his  appear- 
ance ;  but  that  rough-looking  man  would  attract  thousands, 
from  miles  around,  whe^rer  he  preached,  and  none 
went  from  his  ministrationWmsatisfied. 

After  announcing  the  text  I  have  named,  in  the  pul- 
pit, the  first  movement  of  the  preacher  was  from  it, 
"  This,"  he  said,  "  wont  do."  He  went  down  the  pulpit 
stairs,  and  standing  in  the  large  table,  or  class-leader's 
pew,  he  supposed  himself  to  be  Noah,  the  pulpit  to  be 
the  ark  which  he  is  building,  and  his  hearers  around  him 
to  be  the  ungodly  world  to  which  he  was  preaching. 


28  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  OR, 

Meantime  lie  was  preparing  the  ark,  and  while  talking 
he  was  gradually  mounting  step  by  step,  the  pulpit,  till 
at  last  he  reached  the  door ;  then  slamming  it  to,  he 
shouted,  "  The  Lord  shut  him  in."  And  now  the  flood, 
the  thunder,  the  lightning,  the  fall  of  rocks  and  crags, 
and  the  shrieking  of  perishing  sinners  rose  around,  while 
the  ark  drifted  safely  over  the  billows,  amidst  the  terrors 
of  fire  and  thunder  and  storm.  As  in  most  preachers 
of  his  class,  there  was  a  rough,  histrionic  power ;  his 
words  and  his  actions  too  were  most  graphic.  There 
was  a  strange  sermon  from  the  text,  "  He  brought  me 
up  also  out  of  a  horrible  pit,"  etc.,  etc.  The  colloquy 
between  the  preacher,  and  some  person  he  supposed  to 
be  beneath  the  pulpit,  down  in  the  miry  clay,  is  often 
spoken  of,  by  those  who  heard  it,  as  a  singular  illustra- 
tion of  his  power  of  graphic  painting,  and  something  like 
ventriloquial  speech. 

The  tale  is  well  known  in  Yorkshire,  Dawson's  native 
county,  of  the  pedlar,  who,  when  Dawson  was  preaching 
from  the  text, ."  Thou  art  weighed  in  the  balance  and 
art  found  wanting ; "  pressed  through  the  crowd,  up  the 
pulpit  stairs,  and  gave  up  higyaeasure.  "  Break  it,  sir," 
said  he,  "  break  it,  it  was  snort ; "  and  to  his  imagina- 
tion and  conscience,  all  the  sermon  seemed  levelled  at 
him.  My  dear  reader,  all  this  may  appear  very  coarse 
to  you  ;  but,  in  fact,  is  not  such  preaching  as  that  of 
Dawson's  or  that  of  Father  Taylor's  or  Elder  Knapp's, 
sometimes  useful  ?  Are  you  to  scale,  intellectual  and 
refined  though  you  be,  other  men's  requirements  by 
yours  ?  Forcible  preaching  to  you  may  drop  most  life- 


PEN-PICTURES.  29 

lessly  upon  other  ears.  I  confess  I  should  not  like  to 
attend  upon  a  ministry  such  as  William  Dawson's  very 
long,  and  yet  I  wish  that  there  were  among  our  country 
preachers  or  ministers  at  large,  strong,  coarse,  rugged, 
pictorial  souls  like  his,  to  awaken  the  moral  Choctaws  of 
the  country  to  some  dim  twinkling  religious1,  perceptions. 
Many  of  my  readers  will  remember  that  one  of  the 
most  famous  Methodist  preachers  of  the  day  visited 
America  a  few  years  since.  Admitting  his  great  popu- 
larity, I  am  disposed  to  ask  whether  the  pulpit  of 
Methodism  is  at  present  most  appropriately  represented 
in  England  by  ROBERT  NEWTON?  Certainly  I  think 
not,  and  yet  his  name  is  most  attractive  in  all  parts  of 
Great  Britain ;  and  I  have  gone  with  thronging  crowds 
to  the  largest  conventicles  in  the  country  to  hear  him. 
I  have  heard  him  on  great  occasions  and  on  small  occa- 
sions, and  I  cannot  understand  it ;  there  is  something 
mythical  about  the  man  ;  he  is  the  most  famous  preacher 
in  the  world  —  so  say  his  admirers.  I  have  read  his 
sermons,  I  have  heard  them  delivered ;  and  I  do  not 
remember  that  I  have  ever  been  benefited  by  a  single 
new  thought,  new  illust^ik^  or  new  impulse.  Once, 
indeed,  I  heard  him  S||BRiat  "  prayer  was  like  an 
arrow,  shot  up  to  heaven  ;  it  brought  back  a  blessing  upon 
the  quiver."  The  figure  appeared  to  me  not  of  the 
best,  but  still  good ;  and  as  it  was  the  only  one,  I  took  it 
and  was  thankful.  But  turning  over  Bishop  Hall's  con- 
templation six  months  after,  I  found  the  arrow  there. 
The  only  good  thing  I  ever  had  from  the  Doctor  was 
borrowed.  There  is  nothing  ill-natured  in  these  remarks ; 
3* 


30  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:    OR, 

the  fame  of  Robert  Newton  is  extraordinary  in  America 
as  well  as  in  England.  I  suppose,  humble  writer  that  I 
am,  I  must  be  wrong ;  two  hemispheres  cannot  be  at 
fault,  and  there  are  men  whose  presence  is  their  power. 
Whitefield  cannot  be  seen  in  his  sermons,  wonderful  as 
was  their  eflwct  in  delivery.  We  read  them  as  among 
the  tamest^oi  human  compositions.  Again  I  say  I  can- 
not understand  it ;  thought  or  language  I  never  could 
detect;  truly,  truly  among  the  hundreds  of  obscure 
preachers  of  my  acquaintance,  I  know  very  many 
in  moral  structure  apparently  far  taller  than  Robert 
Newton. 

But  his  manner,  says  the  reader  —  what  do  you  think 
of  his  manner  ?  Excellent,  very ;  and  in  some  particu- 
lars, perhaps,  even  graceful.  No  doubt  in  youth  and 
manhood  there  was  a  perfect  and  self-possessed  dignity, 
which  wins  wonderfully  in  popular  estimation.  No  doubt 
the  tones  of  that  voice  were  then  thrilling  and  shrill, 
and  yet  in  wonderful  combination  full  of  compass  and 
power.  I  surmise  all  this,  for  I  have  not  heard  it ;  but 
a  friend  of  mine,  a  clergyman  from  Louisiana,  who 
heard  him  preach  in  one  of.  tjfe,  Halls  of  Congress,  dur- 
ing his  visit  to  this  land,  declared  to  me  that  those  tones 
were  so  marvellous  and  electrical,  that  when  the  preacher 
gave  out  the  hymn — 

"  Would  Jesus  have  the  sinner  die  ?  " 

he  felt  a  tingling  and  creeping  through  the  blood  of  his 
whole  frame ;  and  many  of  the  writer's  friends  have 
attested  this  wonderful  power.  If  this  is  the  case,  there 


PEN-PICTURES.  31 

is  nothing  marvellous  in  the  extent  of  the  preacher's 
fame ;  this  magnetic  force  touches  the  highest  point  of 
oratorical  power ;  but  I  have  neither  felt  it  nor  heard  it. 
I  said  so  once  to  a  good  friend,  and  he  told  me  that  my 
heart  was  not  in  a  right  state ;  very  likely. 

But  where  have  I  been  rambling  ?  The  reader  must 
pardon  me  for  being  discursive.  This  pen  of  mine  is 
addicted  to  a  species  of  literary  vagrancy,  and^at  some 
seasons  it  wanders  wide  and  far.  So  has  it  been  in  the 
present  instance.  I  set  out  with  the  full  intention  of 
visiting  Dr.  Bethune's  Dutch  Reformed  Church,  instead 
of  which  I  have  lingered  among  the  followers  of  John 
Wesley.  Patience,  however,  reader,  and  in  my  next 
chapter  I  promise  you  that  I  will  take  more  heed  unto 
my  thoughts,  that  my  pen  slip  not  from  its  appionted 
subject.  -,#i[<.s. 


CHAPTER   III. 

PEN-PICTURES  IN  PROVIDENCE.  SCENES  AT  BROWN  UNI- 
VERSITY. PRESIDENT  WAYLAND.  DR.  CASWELL.  A 
SCENE  IN  CHURCH. 

MORE  fortunate  was  I  in  my  next  attempt  to  reach 
Dr.  Bethune's  church.  What  church  it  was  I  do  not 
precisely  remember ;  that  is,  the  special  name  or  number 


32  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  OR, 

thereof.  It  belonged,  I  know,  to  the  Dutch  Eeform  sec- 
tion of  worshippers. 

There  I  frequently  heard  him  preach  then  and  after- 
wards, for  he  was  not  one  of  those  pulpit  teachers 
whom  you  may  just  listen  to,  and  then  leave  without 
feeling  any  more  interest  in  them.  Hundreds  of  such 
are  there  whose  words  glide  from  the  mind  and  memory, 
leaving  a  blank  behind ;  or,  as  a  very  homely  preacher 
once  said,  "  it  runs  off  like  water  from  a  duck's  back/' 
Such  men  are  my  peculiar  aversion  ;  and  it  demands  the 
utmost  stretch  of  courtesy  to  sit  out  one  of  their  dreamy 
discourses. 

Since  my  Philadelphia  visit,  Dr.  Bethune  has  removed 
to  Brooklyn ;  and  as  I  wish  to  sketch  the  men  of  the 
day,  rather  than  those  of  ten  years  ago,  I  shall  not 
pencil  Dr.  Bethune  as  he  appeared  in  the  city  of 
brotherly  love,  but  rather  as  the  Brooklyn  pastor.  This, 
however,  will  make  very  little  difference,  for  I  do  not 
see  that  either  his  personal  appearance  or  his  pulpit 
efforts  have  undergone  any  material  alterations.  He 
may,  perhaps,  exhibit  a  trifle  more  of  what  Leigh  Hunt 
calls  "  a  comfortable  fulness,"  than  of  yore  ;  but  on  the 
whole,  the  man  now  is,  as  I  said,  so  much  like  what  he 
then  was,  that  one  picture  will  serve  to  represent  him  at 
both  periods. 

With  the  permission  then,  of  the  reader,  I  will  shift 
the  scene  from  Philadelphia  to  a  neighborhood  nearer 
Boston,  and  this  because  such  a  change  will  enable  me 
to  introduce  some  of  those  "accessories"  of  which  I 
spoke  in  the  commencement  of  my  last  chapter.  Let 


PEN-PICTUEES.  83 

the  reader,  then,  in  imagination,  transport  himself  to 
Rhode  Island  State  ;  for  in  its  commercial  emporium, 
Providence,  we  shall  have  a  fair  opportunity  of  witness- 
ing a  great  annual  gathering  of  the  "  cloth,"  and 
amongst  the  host  of  reverend  visitors,  Dr.  Bethune 
himself,  that  gentleman  having  engaged  to  deliver  the 
oration  to  the  Phi  Beta  Kappa  Society  of  Brown  Uni- 
versity. 

Here  we  are  then,  in  the  hot  city  of  Roger  Williams, 
his  far-famed  and  immortal  exclamation  of  "  What 
cheer ! "  staring  us  in  the  face,  it  being  carved  in  stone 
on  the  front  of  the  Exchange  building.  Bustling  as  the 
town  always  is,  it  is  unusually  so  to-day,  and  more  than, 
half  the  population  are  on  wheels.  Never  have  I  seen, 
and  I  have  been  in  not  a  few  towns  and  cities  in  my 
time,  such  a  host  of  vehicles  as  is  exhibited  daily  in  the 
streets  of  Providence.  And  this  speciality  of  the  town 
stands  us  just  now  in  good  stead,  for  as  we  draw  up 
panting  and  perspiring  by  the  market,  a  friend  hails  us 
from  the  interior  of  his  chaise,  and  we  are  borne,  noth- 
ing loth,  up  one  of  the  tremendously  steep  streets  that 
lead  to  the  University.  Arrived  there,  we  leap  on  the 
grass  and  join  the  crowds  who  are  assembled  in  front  of 
the  portico. 

As  yet  the  doors  are  unopened,  so  we  shall  arm-in- 
arm with  our  "  guide,  philosopher  and  friend,"  for  such 
he  indeed  is,  lounge  about  the  pleasant  lawn  of  Brown's. 
Brown's  ?  not  a  very  high  sounding  name  is  it  for  a  seat 
of  .learning.  Now  there  is  something  sonorous  and 
euphonious  too  in  "  Harvard,"  it  has  an  aristocratic  sort 


34  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  OR, 

of  sound,  and  let  people  say  what  they  will,  there  is  I 
much  in  a  name.     Does  not  "  Plantagenet,"   (noblest   I 
of  appellations,)  fall  more  imposingly  on  the  ear  than    I 
"  Tims  ? "     Are   not  the  diapasons  of  "  Northumber-   I 
land,"   or  "  Washington,"   of   a  nobler   tone  than  the 
everlasting  pitch-pipe  of  "Jones?"  "Princeton,"  too, 
sounds  well,  and  "  Yale"  has  a  quaint,  puritanish  echo,    | 
that  redeems  it  from  insignificance.     A  wild  and  des-    I 
perate  attempt  has  been  made  at  Washington  to  redeem 
the  Institute  there  from  the  universalism  of  the  tribe  of 
Smith,  or  Smithson  ;  but  as  in  the  case  of  some  tailor- 
disguised  nobody, 

You  may  spangle  and  dress  up  the  man  if  you  will, 
But  the  stamp  of  the  vulgar  will  stick  to  him  still. 

And  Brown's !  what  on  earth  is  the  name  suggestive  of 
save  of  the  "  Smith,  Brown,  Jones  and  Robinson"  story 
that  made  us  afraid  to  go  a-swimming  in  our  school-boy 
days  ?  Stay  —  we  are  wrong.  Was  there  not  a  Sir 
Thomas  Brown,  whose  "  Vulgar  Erroures  "  convince  us 
of  our  own  ?  Then  there  was  the  famous  John  Brown, 
of  Haddington,  and  other  Browns,  spelt  with  a  final  e 
and  an  u  for  a  w,  of  whom  doubtless  our  learned  readers 
wot.  And  here  is  our  Brown  —  Humphrey  we  believe 
was  his  given  name,  who  has  immortalized  his  individual 
self  by  his  legacy  to  learning.  Little  matter  is  it,  either 
that  "Brown  University"  does  not  sound  quite  so 
grandly  as  Oxford,  or  Cambridge,  or  Edinburgh,  or  Got- 
tingen,  or  Ley  den,  or  Salamanca,  or  the  Propaganda ; 
it  is  enough  that  it  possesses  sound  teachers,  and  that  it 


TEN-PICTURES.  35 

has  sent  forth  able  scholars,  who  may  worthily  stand 
beside  the  best  of  those  who  have  matriculated  in  the 
halls  of  any  of  its  rivals. 

A  great  day  is  that  of  the  College  winding-up  in  the 
city  of  Providence,  but  not  so  great,  we  are  told,  as  it 
was  a  few  years  ago.  This  was  ascribed  to  an  alteration 
in  the  time  of  its  celebration.  As  it  is,  however,  an 
unusual  stir  prevails.  Here  on  the  greensward  are 
groups  of  gentlemen  engaged  in  exchanging  greetings, 
for  many  of  them,  old  students  of  Brown's,  have  re- 
paired hither  to  see  old  and  to  make  new  friends.  A 
practised  eye  can  scarcely  fail  to  detect  the  comers  from 
the  country,  by  the  freshness  of  their  faces  and  the  cut 
of  their  clothes.  Every  other  man  we  see  is  a  parson 
(we  like  the  old  fashioned  epithet  —  parson)  of  some 
denomination  or  other.  Some,  of  these-  are  so  venerable 
that  the  grasshopper  would  indeed  seem  to  be  a  burden. 
Some  are  middle  aged,  sleek  and  pompous;  some  so 
suave  and  shrinking  in  the  awful  presence  of  the  great 
men  of  their  sect,  that  they  continually  remind  us  of 
the  bashful  and  apologetical  young  divine  of  whom 
Robert  Hall-  said  he  was  surprised  that  he  did  not  beg 
pardon  of  the  Almighty  for  being  in  the  world.  Some 
are  so  very  humble  that  we  are  reminded  of 

'  The  devil's  darling  sin, 


The  pride  that  apes  humility ; " 

though  we  by  no  means  desire  to  impute  the  possession 
of  that  quality  to  any  one  in  particular ;  —  some,  too, 
are  young,  florid  and  foppish,  and  a  few  even  juvenile, 


36  PULPIT  PORTRAITS  :    OR, 

clumsy  and  verdant.  But  whether  young,  middle 
aged  or  old,  they  each  and  all  have  a  peculiarity  of 
appearance  and  manner  which  is  unmistakable.  All 
sport  a  "  white  choke,"  all  are  attired  in  sable,  all  have 
a  grave  look,  (excepting  when  some  racy  story  or  pleas- 
ant bit  of  scan.  mag.  is  being  told,  and  then  none  can  be 
"jollier"  than  our  reverend  friends,)  and  in  short,  the 
stamp  Parsonic  is  to  be  seen  upon  the  physiognomies  and 
figures  of  each  and  all. 

Ten  o'clock  strikes,  and  the  great  hall  doors  are  flung 
open.  With  others,  we  enter  the  library,  where  are  as- 
sembled the  "  dons"  of  the  place.  And  now  let  me  re- 
sume the  familiar  "  I"  once  more. 

It  was  no  time  to  examine  the  legion  of  volumes  that 
surrounded  me,  though  I  longed  to  do  so.  Hurried 
along  by  my  guide,  I  reached  the  top  of  the  library, 
where  stood  a  few  gentlemen,  apparently  awaiting  the 
arrival  of  some  important  personage.  Presently  a  gen- 
tleman made  his  appearance  from  one  of  the  side  re- 
cesses. As  he  came  forward  he  drew  on  his  robes,  and 
that  operation  completed  he  entered  into  desultory  con- 
versation with  a  few  present. 

"  Do  you  know  President  Wayland  ? "  asked  my 
friend.  I  did  not ;  and  he  introduced  me  at  once  to  the 
head  of  "  Brown."  And  never  have  I  beheld  a  man 
of  a  more  imposing  presence,  or  one  whose  appearance 
was  better  calculated  to  inspire  reverence  —  I  had  al- 
most said  awe.  He  was  in  stature  a  little  above  the 
middle  height,  but  with  that  slight  stoop  peculiar  to 
nearly  all  men  of  studious  habits  —  the  true  scholar's 


PEN-PICTURES.  37 

bend.  His  figure  was  square  built  and  massive  ;  noth- 
ing of  the  slenderness  of  the  hard  student  was  to  be 
seen  in  his  frame,  nor  of  the  paleness  of  the  deep 
thinker  in  his  swarthy  face.  His  head  was  one  which  a 
sculptor  might  have  taken  as  a  model  for  Jupiter ;  and 
nothing  more  statuesque  have  I  ever  seen  than  the  posi- 
tion he  assumed  when  he  bowed  a  recognition  of  me, 
when  introduced.  It  was  the  bend  majestic  —  the 
grandest  bow  possible  ;  it  made  you  feel  that  you  stood 
before  one  who  knew  his  place,  and  meant  to  keep  it  too. 
As  he  thus  slightly  inclined,  his  face  was  necessarily 
brought  into  near  neighborhood  with  mine,  and  the  dark 
piercing  eyes  gleaming  out  from  beneath  bushy  black 
brows,  which  in  then*  turn  were  surmounted  by  a  broad 
forehead  and  on  whose  summit  was  iron  gray  hair,  al- 
most startled  me.  Firm  and  compressed  were  the  lips, 
somewhat  large  the  nasal  organ.  Altogether,  I  felt 
convinced  that  the  majestic  bower  was  a  man  of  mark, 
and  I  was  not  mistaken. 

I  soon  backed  out  of  the  crowd  which  formed  around 
the  great  man.  Next  I  was  introduced  to  Dr.  Sharp, 
whose  silver  hah'  gleamed  like  a  crown  of  honor  amidst 
the  black  multitude.  Presently  I  was  made  acquainted 
with  Professor  Caswell,  whose  genial  face  gladdened  all 
who  came  within  the  sphere  of  its  influence.  Other 
acquaintances,  too,  I  made  that  day,  of  which  I  may 
have  occasion  to  speak  hereafter ;  for  the  present  I  must 
hasten  to  join  the  procession  which  is  about  to  proceed 
to  the  First  Baptist  Church. 

A  band  heads  it ;  and  to  the  roll  of  the  drums,  the 
4 


38  PULPIT   PORTRAITS  :    Oil, 

blare  of  trumpets,  the  clang  of  cymbals,  the  reedy  notes! 
of  hautboys,  the  liquid  melody  of  flutes,  and  the  grumb- 
ling of  bassoons,  the  grave  and  reverend  professors 
and  their  friends  march  churchwards.  The  motley  pro- 
cession 

"  Like  a  wounded  snake  drags  its  slow  length  along," 

and  at  length,  emerging  on  Main  street,  soon  reaches 
the  gates  of  the  First  Church,  -whose  steeple  glistens  in 
the  sunlight,  white  as  an  angel's  wing.  Here  the  mem- 
bers of  it  dispose  themselves  into  two  parallel  lines,  be- 
tween which  the  Professor  and  the  Orator  march,  whilst 
hats  are  lifted  from  all  heads  as  they  pass,  in  token  of 
respect.  Following  in  their  wake  I  entered  the  church, 
in  which  I  soon  secured  a  good  place  both  for  seeing  and 
hearing. 

A  beautiful  interior  is  that  of  the  First  Baptist 
Church  in  Providence.  Seldom  have  I  seen  anything  so 
truly  elegant.  Its  lofty  roof,  fine  pillars,  chastely  deco- 
rated walls,  beautiful  pulpit  and  deep  galleries,  all  con- 
tributed to  form  a  splendid  temple.  But,  dear  reader, 
imagine  that,  as  now,  the  galleries  are  filled  with  ladies, 
most  of  them  lovely  and  all  well  dressed.  Viewed  from 
my  seat,  the  coup  d'ccil  was  superb.  From  end  to  end 
of  those  side  galleries  there  was  not  a  vacant  spot.  No 
flower  garden  was  ever  more  densely  covered  with 
beauty.  Below  were  principally  sober  black  coats,  but 
the  light  gauzy  dresses  of  the  ladies,  and  the  bright, 
many-colored  ribbons  in  their  caps  and  bonnets,  pleas- 
antly relieved  the  dulness  of  the  divinity  color.  And 


PEN-PICTURES.  89 

these  chapel-going  ladies,  let  me  assure  you,  reader,  are 
quite  as  fond  of  making  purchases  at  Vanity  Fair,  as 
any  of  their  unprofessing  sisters.  Show  me  one  of  the 
fair  disciples  even  of  plain  John  Wesley,  whose  eyes  will 
not  glisten  at  sight  of  a  "  dove  of  a  ribbon,"  or  a  "  duck 
of  a  bonnet,"  or  who  will  conscientiously  prefer  a 
"  dowdy"  head-covering  to  a  smart  fabric  from  a  fash- 
ionable bonnet-builder,  and  then  I  will  believe  that  re- 
ligion has  a  tendency  to  damage  or  destroy  taste,  but 
not  till  then. 

There  is  an  organ  in  the  gallery,  yet  to-day  it  is  not 
used.  Instead  there  is  a  brass  band  present,  and  it 
sounds  strangely  to  hear  "  lillibullero "  sort  of  tunes 
from  such  instruments,  and  in  such  a  place.  However, 
the  ladies  seemed  specially  pleased  at  the  substitution 
of  profane  polkas  for  pious  psalm  tunes,  and  I  more 
than  once  heard  tiny  feet  tapping  the  time  with  great 
gusto.  And  no  great  harm  either.  Rowland  Hill  in- 
troduced song  compositions  into  his  chapel,  and  declared 
that  the  devil  ought  not  to  have  all  the  pretty  tunes. 
He  was  right. 

These  preliminary  services  have  been  gone  through, 
and  now  the  orator  of  the  day  advances  to  the  front  of 
the  pulpit.  In  an  instant  a  dead  silence  reigns,  and 
even  the  silks  and  crinoline  of  the  ladies  cease  to 
rustle.  Let  us  too  glance  at  the  "  observed  of  all  ob- 


40  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  OR, 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  REV.  DR.  BETHUNE,  OF  BROOKLYN,  N.  Y.  PERSONAL 
APPEARANCE.  STYLE  OF  ORATORY.  EXTEMPORANEOUS 
PREACHING.  CROLY.  DR.  BETHUNE  AS  AN  AUTHOR. 
NOTICE  OF  DR.  SHARP. 

RISING  from  his  seat  —  a  black  covered  manuscript 
in  his  hands,  there  he  stands,  and  so  let  him  for  a  few 
moments,  whilst  the  reporters  are  sharpening  their  pen- 
cils, the  people  settling  down  into  their  places,  and  his 
sketcher  "  all  eye,  all  ear." 

Externally,  Dr.  George  W.  Bethune  is  of  the  portly 
order,  and  in  respect  of  adipose  matter  forms  a  very 
striking  contrast  to  the  reverend  gentleman  upon  whom, 
the  reader  will  remember,  I  accidentally  stumbled  in 
Philadelphia.  He  was  none  of  your  meditative  and 
ascetic  looking  men,  such  for  instance,  as  was  in  appear- 
ance the  late  Moses  Stuart,  who,  when  I  saw  him  in  his 
neat  old  study  at  Andover,  looked  as  thin  and  as  dry 
as  any  of  the  "Fathers"  on  his  shelves.  No,  the 
Doctor  rather  reminded  me  of  that  sleek  and  oily  gentle- 
man, Friar  Tuck,  whose  very  name  is  suggestive  of 
venison  pasties,  and  "  dainty  bits  of  warden  pie." 
Neither  did  he  at  all  provoke  remembrances  of  certain 
hard  working  Curates.  Far  from  it;  he  was  of  the 


PEN-PICTURES.  41 

British  Bisliop  order  —  that  sort  of  bishop  I  mean*  who 
used  to  hold  a  fat  diocese,  and  dispense  divinity  in  lawn 
sleeves.  Mind,  I  speak  only  of  externals,  for  I  believe 
that  very  few  of  the  ecclesiastics  to  whom  I  refer  were 
so  far  as  mental  endowments  or  usefulness  were  con- 
cerned, at  all  comparable  with  our  orator  of  the  Phi  Beta 
Kappa. 

Dr.  Bethune's  face  possesses  a  shrewd  but  certainly 
not  a  highly  intellectual  expression  —  it  is  too  fleshy  for 
that.  The  forehead  is  broad,  but  not  high ;  and  on  its 
summit  the  long,  light  colored  straight  hair  is  parted  in 
the  centre  and  combed  back  behind  the  ears.  The  eyes 
are  of  a  grayish  or  blueish  tint,  and  rather  small.  The 
nose  is  short,  and  the  mouth  large  —  too  large  indeed 
for  symmetry,  and  the  plump  cheeks  are  whiskerless. 
After  what  was  just  now  said,  the  reader  will  be  pre- 
pared for  a  double  chin,  a  considerable  amplitude  of 
waistcoat,  and  for  a  stomach  like  that  which  Shakspeare 
described  as  u  capon  lined."  Altogether,  on  surveying 
the  Doctor,  you  would  at  once  pronounce  him  to  be 
u  something  out  of  the  common,"  whilst  his  unaffected 
and  off-hand  manner  would  convince  you  that  no  one 
was  farther  removed  from  any  thing  like  the  conscious- 
ness thereof,  or  of  affectation  of  any  kind,  than  himself. 

Dr.  Bethune's  oratory  is  chaste,  poetical  and  glowing. 
A  ripe  scholar,  his  sermons  are  always  models  of  style ; 
and  without  too  much  elaboration  they  possess  exquisite 
finish.  Some  of  his  discourses  remind  us  of  a  polished 
shaft  crowned  with  its  graceful  capital  of  carved  acan- 
thus leaves,  symmetry,  elegance  and  firmness,  all  com- 


42  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  OR, 

birring  to  form  a  perfect  whole.  If  they  do  not  exhibit  j 
the  profound  thought  that  characterizes  the  sermons  of  a  j 
Hall  or  a  Boardman,  they  exhibit  the  flowers  of  oratory  in 
all  their  beauty  and  glory.  His  command  of  language  is  | 
great,  —  he  at  times  displays  even  an  affluence  of  die-  j 
tion,  and  an  opulence  of  imagery.  A  shrewd  observer 
of  men  and  manners,  he  is  fond  of  shooting  folly  as  it 
flies,  and  when  it  so  pleases  him  he  can  be  as  sarcastic 
,as  John  Randolph,  or  as  severe  asTTns'lram  Burgess. 
The  "  shams"  of  the  day  are  his  abhorrence,  and  he 
fearlessly  attacks  them.  No  man  has  higher  respect  for 
the  "  powers  that  be,"  but  no  minister  "  holds  his  own" 
so  independently,  or  with  more  dignity  sustains  his 
sacred  office.  His  descriptive  passages  remind  us  some- 
what of  the  verbal  grandeurs  of  Croly,  the  author  of 
"The  Angel  of  the  World,"  and  the  Rector  of  St. 
Stephen's,  Walbrook,  London.  The  last  time  I  heard 
that  distinguished  English  Divine,  his  subject  was  one 
which  led  him  to  refer  incidentally  to  the  splendors  of 
Ancient  Nineveh,  the  city  whose  long  buried  glories 
have  since  been  revealed  by  Layard.  Certainly  such 
a  magnificent  specimen  of  word-painting  I  never  before 
heard.  Listening  to  him  was  like  reading  scenes  from 
his  own  gorgeous,  eloquent  "  Salathiel,"  or  perusing  the 
Apocalypse  by  flashes  of  lightning !  With  a  marvellous 
pomp  of  language  he  described  the  glories  of  the  now 
ruined  cities,  and  with  amazing  fluency  heaped  splendor 
on  splendor,  until,  as  the  eye  grows  dazzled  by  gazing 
on  the  changing  glories  of  a  tropic  sunset,  when  clouds 
of  amber  and  vermilion,  piled  on  each  other,  assume  a 


PEN-PICTURES.  43 

thousand  fantastic  shapes ;  so  the  mind  became  almost 
overwhelmed  by  his  many  and  superb  illustrations. 
Thus  is  it  sometimes  in  the  case  of  Dr.  Bethune.  Occa- 
sionally he  over-colors  his  pulpit  pictures,  so  that  in 
place,  as  it  were,  of  the  delicious  harmony  of  a  Claude, 
we  now  and  then  behold  the  extravagant  gorgeousness 
with  which  Turner  used  to  cover  his  canvas. 

Dr.  Bethune  well  supports  the  dignity  of  the  pulpit. 
He  appears  to  feel  that  it  is  no  place  for  trumpery  show, 
or  idle  display.  He  commands  respect  as  well  by  his 
manner  as  his  matter.  He  uses  but  little  action,  and 
that  is  always  graceful  —  as  graceful  indeed  as  it  can 
be,  when  we  remember  that  he  confines  himself  to  his 
notes.  Did  he  preach  extemporaneously  he  would  be 
far  more  effective.  Alas!  for  written  discourses, — 
what  they  gain  in  correctness,  they  lose  in  warmth. 
When  will  ministers  fling  their  manuscripts  away  and 
trust  to  the  inspiration  of  the  moment  ?  There  is  to  me 
something  supremely  ridiculous  in  a  man's  clutching  the 
leaves  of  his  sermon  book  with  one  hand,  for  fear  he 
should  lose  his  place,  whilst  with  the  other  he  is  frantic- 
ally beating  empty  air !  It  is  like  a  bird  with  a  lame 
wing,  or  a  race  horse  with  a  fettered  hoof.  I  question 
whether  Wesley  or  Whitefield  would  have  produced  a 
tithe  of  the  effect  they  did,  had  they  read  their  sermons. 
It  is  a  pedantic,  mind-cramping,  inspiration- destroy  ing 
practice,  and  the  less  we  have  of  it  the  better.  For 
my  own  part,  I  would  rather  hear  the  humblest  preacher 
"  out  of  book,"  than  the  most  admired  minister  who  is 
tied  to  his  written  lines.  Some  folks  may  sneer  at  my 


44  PULPIT   PORTRAITS:    OR, 

taste,  perhaps  —  let  them.  I  do  not  of  course  advocate 
unstudied  sermons,  for  I  take  it  to  be  an  insult  to  any 
congregation  for  a  minister  to  go  into  the  pulpit  unpre- 
pared. What  I  deprecate  is,  the  dull,  dry  system  of 
reading,  and  often  of  badly  reading,  a  coldly  correct 
composition  —  a  consequence  of  which  is,  that  there  is 
seldom  a  spark  of  genuine  feeling  elicited  from  the  time 
the  text  is  announced  until  a  final  "Amen''  closes  the 
dreary  discourse. 

Dr.  Bethune  is  an  author.  Scattered  among  hymn 
books  and  annuals  we  find  some  very  charming  verses 
from  his  pen. 

Beside  poems,  Dr.  Bethune  has  made  some  valuable 
contributions  to  literature,  both  in  theological  and  scien- 
tific paths.  His  orations  and  occasional  discourses, 
says  one  of  his  reviewers,  show  that  "  he  is  a  man  of 
large  and  generous  views,  uniting  to  the  attainments  of 
the  scholar  a  profound  knowledge  of  mankind.  In  dis- 
courses prepared  for  public  occasions,  it  is  almost  impos- 
sible that  allusions,  more  or  less  direct,  and  more  or  less 
connected  with  the  occasion  —  to  the  institutions,  the 
policy,  the  legislation  of  the  country,  and  the  duties  of 
its  citizens  —  should  not  often  occur.  Dr.  Bethune's 
political  philosophy  is  liberal  and  enlightened ;  it  is  the 
uncompromising  application  of  Christian  morality  to 
public  life,  and  there  is  no  nobler  and  truer  political 
philosophy  than  this.  One  of  the  most  remarkable  dis- 
courses in  this  volume  is  that  entitled  '  The  Claims  of 
our  Country  on  its  Literary  Men.'  We  could  wish  that 
it  might  be  read  attentively  by  all  those  in  our  country 


£EN-PICTURES,  45 

who  devote  themselves  to  letters,  whether  in  the  retire- 
ment of  our  academic  institutions,  or  in  the  hours 
snatched  from  other  pursuits.  Its  wise  counsels  are 
expressed  in  a  manly  style,  and  sometimes  with  elo- 
quence." 

The  Doctor  is  the  author  of  the  introduction  to 
Walton  and  Cotton's  Angler,  which  is  prefixed  to  the 
best  American  edition  of  that  charming  work,  and  few 
are  able  to  "whip  the  water"  with  more  success  than 
the  pastor  of  the  Dutch  Reformed  Church  in  Brooklyn. 
In  this  "  contemplative  man's  recreation,"  as  good, 
quaint  old  Izaac  hath  it,  he  is  not,  in  my  opinion,  over- 
stepping the  proprieties  of  parson-hood,  for  were  not 
Peter  and  James  and  Simon  fishermen  ?  Some  caviller 
may  say,  "  Aye,  but  they  were  piscatorial  for  a  living" 
No  matter,  we  think  Dr.  Bethune  may  preach  all  the 
better  for  an  occasional  ramble  by  the  running  brooks, 
for  such  souls  as  his  can  find  "  good  in  every  thing." 
Doubtless  he  has  studied  many  a  sermon  with  a  rod  and 
reel  in  hand,  and  quite  as  useful  ones  as  if  they  had 
been  painfully  composed  with  some  of  the  musty  old 
fathers  on  one  side  of  him,  and  a  heap  of  dusty  Com- 
mentators on  the  other.  As  I  have  intimated,  Dr. 
Bethune  is  the  pastor  of  a  Dutch  Reformed  Church, 
in  Brooklyn,  N.  Y.  The  edifice  is  new  and  handsome, 
and  the  congregation  rather  fashionable,  I  believe,  but 
of  such  matters  I  know  little  and  care  less. 


In  my  last  chapter,  I  incidentally  alluded  to  the  Rev. 


46  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  OR, 

Dr.  Sharp,  of  Boston,  who,  I  said,  was  one  of  the 
noticeables  of  the  throng  in  the  library  of  Brown  Uni- 
versity. That  revered  minister  of  Christ  is  no  more ; 
and  the  grave  at  Mount  Auburn  has  closed  over  all  that 
was  mortal  of  the  father  of  Boston  ministers.  I  am 
not  now  about  to  sketch  this  eminent  and  excellent  man. 
To  nearly  all  my  readers,  that  small,  spare  figure,  with 
the  closely  buttoned-up  -coat,  that  head  of  silver  white- 
ness, that  benevolent  brow,  those  small,  cleanly  cut  eye- 
lids, and  blueish  orbs  beneath,  that  lengthened  nose, 
that  kind,  flexible  mouth,  and  indeed  the  whole  external 
man,  must  be  as  familiar  as  any  thing  else  of  yesterday. 
Truly  did  Dr.  Wayland  say  of  him,  on  the  occasion  of 
his  funeral  discourse,  (and  with  the  extract  I  will  con- 
clude this  chapter)  :  — 

"  There  was  scarcely  ever  a  character  which  stood  so 
little  in  need  of  delineation,  for  it  was  broad  and  open 
as  the  day.  His  intellect  was  clear  and  practical ;  the 
bias  of  his  mind  was  strongly  conservative ;  as  a 
preacher  his  elocution  was  solemn,  earnest  and  impres- 
sive. Cowper's  portrait  of  a  Christian  minister  seemed 
to  be  continually  before  his  mind.  His  style  was  natu- 
ral, perspicuous  and  forcible.  He  rarely  failed  to  hold 
to  the  last  the  fixed  attention  of  his  audience.  The 
ancients  had  said  that  the  charm  of  oratory  was  in  the 
elements  of  the  character  of  the  orator.  Most  true 
was  this  of  Dr.  Sharp.  Forty  years  had  he  labored 
here,  and  not  a  shadow  of  a  spot  had  passed  across  his 
character.  He  seemed  surrounded  by  a  moral  atmos- 
phere, which  transformed  the  minds  of  other  men  into 
his  o\m  character." 


PEN-PICTURES.  47 


CHAPTER    V. 

SABBATH  MORNING.  A  COSMOPOLITAN  CREED.  REV.  MR. 
MINER'S  CHURCH.  PIETY  AND  POLITENESS.  FLORAL 
DECORATION.  A  SKETCH  OF  THE  PREACHER  AND  THE 

SERVICE. 

IT  is  Sabbath  morning.  Early  sunbeams  are  slanting 
through  the  screen  of  flowers  and  foliage  that  adorn  my 
window,  my  city  window,  and  outspread  on  a  table 
lie  three  volumes :  THE  BOOK,  Jeremy  Taylor's  works, 
and  Herbert's  poems.  Gentle  showers  have  fallen  dur- 
ing the  night,  but  now 

" Heaven  is  clear, 

And  all  the  clouds  are  gone  1*' 

so  that  we  may  well  exclaim, 

"  Sweet  day  so  clear,  so  calm,  so  bright ! 
The  bridal  of  the  earth  and  sky !" 

A  Sabbatic  stillness  hangs  over  the  very  streets,  which  is 
only  now  and  then  broken  by  the  sound  of  the  "  church- 
going  bell,"  and  that  harmonizes  with  rather  than  dis- 
turbs the  scene.  Little  children  troop  by  toward  school, 
their  "  twinkling  feet,"  making  soft  music  as  they  go. 
I  am  not  ashamed  to  own  that  the  "  bonnie  wee  things" 


- 


48  PULPIT  PORTRAITS  :    OR, 

are  especial  favorites  of  mine.  A  tiny  tap  of  the  door 
elicits  the  customary  "  come  in,"  and  the  "  neat-handed 
Phillis"  of  our  little  realm  of  a  room,  enters  with  the 
claret-colored  coat  well  brushed,  and  boots  with  "  shining  | 
morning"  surface.  And  now  a  visitor  arrives,  a  friend 
with  whom  we  have  engaged  to  visit  some  church  in 
Boston,  and  which  of  them  is  the  most  important  matter 
to  be  settled. 

As  we  stroll  leisurely  beneath  the  trees  of  the  Com- 
mon, through  the  over-arching  boughs  of  which  streams 
sunshine  that  paves,  as  it  were,  flickering  mosaic,  the 
grass  below ;  and  the  massive  grandeur  of  whose  shade 
relieves  heaven's  glare  of  blue  overhead,  my  friend 
(who,  by  the  way,  is  a  church-member)  ingeniously  tries 
to  draw  me  out,  and  satisfy  himself  as  to  my  own  pri- 
vate and  particular  religious  opinions. 

So  as  he  quietly  and  almost  carelessly  asks,  "  And 
to  what  denomination  may  you  yourself  happen  to  be- 
long?" 

I  stop  suddenly  in  my  walk,  look  him  full  in  the  face, 
and  reply,  "  To  none." 

He  looks  at  me  with  surprise,  and,  I  fancy,  with  dis- 
approbation ;  we  silently  resume  our  stroll. 

"  To  all,  I  should  rather  say,"  I  added,  "  for  I  desire 
to  survey  every  man's  creed  with  respect.  In  my  faith 
I  am  thoroughly  Cosmopolitan.  My  maxim  is  to  pay 
that  respect  to  the  religious  notions  of  others,  which  I 
desire  they  should  concede  to  my  own.  I  might  just  as 
well  quarrel  with  a  man  for  having  a  different  nose  from 


PEN-PICTURES.  49 

mine,  as  for  his  embracing  opposite  theological  tenets. 
Pope  was  not  far  wrong  when  he  said, 

"  For  modes  of  faith  let  graceless  zealots  fight, 
He  can't  be  wrong  whose  life  is  in  the  right." 

My  companion  shook  his  head ;  it  was  evident  that  he 
did  not  consider  Pope  orthodox.  I  proceeded :  — 

"  Sir,"  I  said,  "  there  is  nothing  I  detest  so  much  as 
exclusiveness  in  religion,  or,  in  other  words,  bigotry  — 
call  it  which  you  will.  For  my  own  part  I  could  worship 
among  (though  not  witK)  any  sect  "  professing  and  call- 
ing themselves  Christians."  Nay,  sir,  I  would  go  far- 
ther, I  indeed  have  done  so.  I  am  not  ashamed  to  con- 
fess that  I  have  felt  devotional  in  a  Mohammedan  mosque, 
a  Jew's  synagogue,  a  Romish  cathedral,  and  a  Quaker 
meeting-house,  (perhaps  the  least  so  in  the  latter.) 
And  why  should  it  be  otherwise  ?  To  my  mind,  a  con- 
scientious Hindoo  who  believes  in  his  shaster ;  acts  ac- 
cording to  the  light  given  him ;  and  dies  in  that  belief, 
ignorant  of  the  atonement,  is  as  likely  to  be  happy  here- 
after, as  the  bishop  of  this  or  that,  who  also  walks  up- 
rightly in  the  sunshine  of  his  own  faith.  There  is  a 
positive  and  a  negative  unbelief,  but  we  regard  this  too 
little,  and  are  apt  to  set  ourselves  up  as  models  of  per- 
fection." 

"  But,"  remarked  my  friend,  rather  shocked,  I  fear, 
"  do  you  not  think  it  advisable  to  identify  yourself  with 
some  one  sect.  Surely  there  must  exist  bodies  of  chris- 
tians,  some  with  whom  you  could  feel  yourself  at  home  ; 

and  if  you  wish  excitement  there  are " 

5 


50  PULPIT   PORTRAITS:    OR, 

"  Stay,  stay,"  said  I.  "  That  is  just  what  I  do  not 
want.  It  is  a  great  fault  of  the  clay  that  audiences  to 
a  great  extent  would  have  all  their  thinking  done  for 
them ;  or  they  would  have  the  speaker  to  conduct  them 
through  a  perfect  series  of  spasms  and  excitements.  It 
is  the  sad  feature  of  men,  in  this  age,  that  they  cannot 
endure  silence,  and  quiet,  and  spiritual  rest  and  peace : 
the  railway  whistle  is  heard  through  the  very  temple 
itself —  the  shout  of  the  engine  is  even  in  the  house  of 
the  Lord !  the  fault  is  not  all  the  pulpit's.  To  many, 
even,  there  is  no  life  but  in  storm ;  they  have  no  notion 
of  a  kingdom  of  God  coming  without  observation.  My 
heart  has  bled  for  many  an  amiable,  beautiful,  gentle 
spirit,  wedded  to  its  thoughts  and  books,  unable  to  cope 
with  the  active  energies  of  the  times ;  the  prey  of  fero- 
cious deacons  and  grumbling  persons.  Oh,  those  dea- 
cons, those  tribunes  of  the  congregations  —  many,  many 
instances  have  I  known  where  the  instructor  of  the 
people  has  been  wholly  subverted  by  a  jealous  spirit, 
a  thirsting  for  authority,  a  yearning  for  something  new." 

"  Are  you  not  too  severe  upon  the  worshippers  in  our 
temples  ?  "  asked  my  companion. 

"  Not  a  whit,"  I  went  on  to  say,  "  not  a  particle. 
The  truth,  indeed,  is,  that  the  worship  of  the  Divine 
occupies  too  often,  even  here  in  Boston,  but  a  small  por- 
tion of  the  temple  duty,  (as,  reader,  in  the  course  of 
these  articles  I  shall  prove.)  It  is  frequently  a  sacrifice 
to  genius,  if  it  is  there  ;  to  eloquence,  to  thought,  if 
they  are  there;  the  ancient  idea  of  the  temple  was 
sacrifice  to  God !  Is  it  so  ?  Thus  the  pulpit  has 


PEN-PICTURES.  51 

changed  its  posture,  and  very  vital  is  the  change.  I 
shall  not  say  all  that  I  think  is  involved  in  it,  but  I  -will 
affirm  that  the  pulpit  never  stood  before  in  so  ambiguous 
a  position.  The  pulpit,  what  is  it?  With  Theodore 
Parker  it  is  a  lecturer's  desk  ;  with  Archbishop  Hughes 
it  is  a  sacrificial  altar ;  with  some  enthusiastic  sectarian 
it  is  the  Agora  of  the  priesthood ;  with  crowds  it  is  the 
last  refuge  of  morbid  vanity  ;  it  has  been  an  element  — 
it  is  an  element  of  modern  society.  What  do  you  say  it 
is?" 

But  my  friend  had  grown  impatient,  as  perhaps  the 
reader  has  done,  and  he  replied  by  simply  pointing  to 
the  clock  of  Pkrk  street  church,  opposite  which  we  had 
arrived.  I  took  the  hint  and  accelerated  my  pace  to- 
wards School  street,  down  which  we  turned  and  speedily 
arrived  at  the  Universalist  church,  whose  new  front 
might  have  escaped  my  observation,  had  I  not  heard 
from  within  the  singing  of  children,  that  sweetly  floated 
on  the  summer  calm ;  and  observed  groups  of  individuals 
gathered  round  the  open  doors,  through  which  went 
many  a  family  procession  to  the  house  of  prayer. 

Now  I  have  some  hobbies,  such  as  most  elderly  gen- 
tlemen are  generally  supposed  to  cherish,  and  one  of 
them  is  to  look  upon  the  fair  young  faces  of  children, 
and  to  hear  their  artless  strains.  Treason  against  taste 
it  may  be  considered  by  some,  but  I  would  rather  listen 
to  a  chorus  of  infant  voices  than  to  the  trills  and  tra  la's 
of  the  most  accomplished  of  Priina  Donnas ;  and  as  to 
loveliness,  why,  not  all  the  highly  dressed  ladies  in  the 
"  Book  of  Beauty,"  who  are  represented  in  the  glories 


52  PULPIT   PORTRAITS:    OR, 

of  satin  and  simper,  can  for  one  moment  compare  with 
romping  groups  of  little  girls,  whose  blooming  faces  are 

"  Like  any  fair  lake  that  tha  breeze  is  upon, 
When  it  breaks  into  dimples  and  laughs  in  the  sun." 

Such  being  my  penchant,  then,  it  will  not  be  wondered 
at  that  I  followed  the  sound  I  have  alluded  to.  Not  far 
had  I  to  go,  for  just  within  the  church  doors  I  saw  an- 
f  other  door,  now  flung  aside,  and  in  the  apartment  beyond 
beheld  a  Sabbath  school.  This,  then,  was  the  human 
bouquet  from  which  the  incense  of  song  had  ascended, 
and  reverently  taking  off  my  hat,  I  passed  just  within 
the  entrance. 

Over  that  portion  of  the  school-room  assigned  to  the 
Superintendent,  hung  a  large,  three  quarter  length  por- 
trait, in  a  gold  frame.  It  evidently  occupied  the  place 
of  honor,  and  I  endeavored  to  find  some  one  who  might 
inform  me  who  was  the  original  of  the  painting.  It  was 
the  semblance,  I  was  sure,  of  a  "  tabernacle,"  in  which 
had  dwelt  a  beautiful  and  lovely  spirit ;  and  as  I  looked 
on  the  canvas,  I  fancied  that  the  eyes  beamed  with  af- 
fectionate regard  on  the  young  people  who  thronged  the 
basement. 

But  the  low,  melodious  tones  of  an  organ  in  the 
church  overhead,  reminded  me  that  the  service  was 
shortly  to  commence.  So  ascending  the  short  flight  of 
stairs,  I  arrived  at  the  inner  doors  of  the  School  street 
sanctuary.  But  before  I  reached  the  top,  I  became 
aware  that  my  progress  was  scrutinized  by  a  regular 
battery  of  eyes  belonging  to  a  number  of  young  men 


PEN-PICTURES.  53 

who  leaned  over  the  railing  of  the  lobby.  If  I  had 
been  a  lady  I  might  possibly  have  blushed  at  being  thus 
stared  at,  as  some  whom  I  noticed  actually  did;  but 
thank  goodness,  I  am  n™too  sensitive  in  this  respect. 
However,  the  custom  is  one  which  I  think  would  be 
more  honoredj^  the  breach  than  the  observance,  for  to 
my  perhapsj»ntiquated  notions,  it  is  not  exactly  the 
thing  for  a  crowd  of  men  to  post  themselves  in  a  position 
from  whence  they  may  as  they  lounge,  criticise  (some- 
times aloud)  the  persons  and  dresses  of  every  lady  who 
is  compelled  to  run  the  gauntlet  of  their  gaze.  Beside 
this,  the  conversation  on  such  occasions  (for  the  custom 
is  by  no  means  peculiar  to  this  particular  place)  some- 
times smacks  rather  of  the  exchange  than  of  the  church ; 
and  it  is  but  a  few  Sabbaths  since  that  I  heard  a  knot 
of  gentlemen  in  the  lobby  of  another  place  of  worship, 
very  glibly  discussing  some  subject  with  wrhich  dollars 
would  seem  to  have  more  to  do  than  divinity,  the  former 
being  frequently  mentioned  loud  enough  for  an  uninten- 
tional listener  to  hear,  and  the  connection  which  proved 
that  ecclesiastical  revenues  were  not  the  "  cash  accounts" 
under  consideration.  Had  I  been  the  preacher  that 
morning,  I  fancy  I  should  have  put  aside  any  other  dis- 
course which  I  might  have  prepared,  and  extemporized 
one  from  that  portion  of  scripture  in  which  the  "  money- 
changers" in  the  Temple  of  old  are  rather  severely  al- 
luded to. 

Now  some  people  may  indignantly  toss  their  heads  at 
these  good  humored  strictures,  and  say  that  it  is  by  no 
means  an  improper  thing  for  friends  to  meet  friends  and 


54 

form  pleasant  re-unions  in  such  places.  But,  I  ask,  are 
"  friendly  greetings"  the  only  things  exchanged  at  these 
times  ?  Very  different  is  it  fi^m  the  rural,  time-honor- 
ed custom  which  obtains  in  cmain  country  communities, 
where,  before  and  after  service,  the  village  people  linger 
in  the  church-yard  to  greet  their  pasto^ps  he  goes  to, 
or  quits  'the  ancient  edifice.  In  these  simple  gatherings 
even  children  seek  "  to  catch  the  good  man's  smile." 
And  then,  it  is  a  salutary  thing  for  rustic  congregations 
to  linger  in  the  village  burial  ground,  where  lie  the 
"  rude  forefathers  of  the  hamlet."  In  such  places 

"  Forth  issuing  from  the  house  of  God, 

And  pausing  on  their  homeward  walk, 
Of  those  who  sleep  beneath  the  sod 
The  village  people  talk  ; 

Of  youth  gone  down ;  —  of  beauty  lost ; 

Of  energy  and  strength  departed ; 
Of  passion  stilled ;  of  project  crossed ; 

Of  mounter  broken-hearted." 

Very  often,  indeed,  more  powerful  sermons  than  those 
delivered  in  the  pulpit  are  preached  "  to  simple  hearts" 
in  such  places,  when  the  minister  freely  mingles  with  his 
flock, 

"  And  as  a  bird  each  fond  endearment  tries 
To  tempt  its  new  fledged  offspring  to  the  skies, 
He  checks  each  haste,  —  reproves  each  dull  delay, 
Allures  to  brighter  worlds  and  leads  the  way." 

But  I  am  growing  garrulous  ;  —  so  let  me  be  silent  and 
enter  the  gates  into  this  temple  built  with  hands. 


PEN-PICTURES.  55 

For  a  few  moments  I  stood  in  the  aisle.  Some  ladies, 
strangers,  like  myself,  waited  also,  until  they  could  be 
accommodated.  Of  course  they  were  attended  to  first, 
and  this  no  one  but  a  brute  would  grumble  about.  But 
there  did  happen  a  trifling  matter,  which  somewhat 
disturbed  my  habitual  serenity,  that  I  shall  briefly  refer 
to. 

I  was  politely  shown  to  a  pew,  in  which  were  four 
other  gentlemen.  Not  long  had  I  been  seated,  when 
two  ladies  made  their  appearance,  and  instead  of  their 
quietly  sitting  next  the.  door,  they  paused,  and  us  four 
men  were  compelled  to  walk  in  single  file  out  of  the 
pew,  arrange  ourselves  awkwardly  along  the  aisle,  to  the 
confusion  of  those  who  .wished  to  pass  by,  and  then 
follow  the  ladies,  Indian,  file  fashion  again,  as  they 
marched  at  the  head  of  our  little  procession.  Now  this 
was  all  very  absurd,  and  as  a  matter  of  homage  to  the 
sex,  ridiculous.  It  was  not  quite  so  bad,  though,  as 
being  turned  out  of  a  seat  which  I  had  occupied  for  half 
an  hour  previously  to  service  commencing,  at  another 
church,  a  few  Sabbaths  since,  by  a  gentleman  who 
roughly  demanded  it  for  a  lady,  which  lady  flounced  into 
it  without  the  slightest  recognition  of  the  courtesy  ac- 
corded to  her.  Now  I  trust  I  am  as  polite  as  my 
neighbors,  and  I  cannot  but  admire  the  deference  uni- 
versally paid  to  ladies  in  America ;  but  I  fancy  when 
the  attentions  of  gentlemen  are,  as  is  often  the  case,  re- 
ceived with  a  scornful  stiffness,  instead  of  with  a  trifling 
acknowledgment,  that  the  custom  stands  in  danger  of 
wearing  threadbare.  Besides,  men  do  not  like  —  at 


56    -*  v  PULPIT  PORTRAITS  I    OR, 

least  I  do  not  —  being  defrauded  of  a  pleasant  smile,  or 
a  cheerful  glance.     So  let  the  ladies  look  to  it,  if  they  j 
would  have  the  men  continue  to  be  pinks  of  politeness,  j 
I  do  not  mean  mere   bowing,  smirking  and  simpering 
things,  who  treat  women  as  if  they  were  dolls,  and  are 
consequently   despised  by  them ;  but  men  who,  whilst 
they  willingly  concede  all  that  politeness  demands,  will 
not  yield  one  iota  of  their  own  proper  and  personal  dig- 
nity. 

From  the  organ,  as  I  before  intimated,  is  pealing  forth 
a  soft,  low  strain,  fitly  preluding  the  services  which  are 
to  follow.  Oh !  most  magnificent  of  musical  instru- 
ments !  to  some  peculiarly  constituted  hearts,  what  a 
handmaid  art  thou  to  devotion !  How,  as  the  soft  diapa- 
sons steal  over  the  sense,  do  they,  with  their  exquisite 
pathos,  attune  the  heart  to  love  and  tenderness ;  and 
how  does  the  exultant  spirit  rise  above  time  and  death, 
when  jubilant  anthems  echo  and  reverberate  beneath 
fretted  roofs  and  along  pillared  aisles.  Stand,  reader, 
in  some  venerable  cathedral,  and  while  the  harmonious 
thunder  rolls  along,  you  will  feel  as  though  soaring  to 
heaven  and  endless  life.  Suddenly  the  music  ceases ; 
then  the  heart  too  drops ;  and  though  all  around  are 
carved  monuments  and  sculptured  brass,  it  perceives, 
spite  of  the  greatness  in  vaults  beneath,  only  a  prouder 
burial  ground,  a  place  of  darkness  and  a  skull ! 

The  interior  of  the  School  street  church  is  one  vastly 
to  my  liking.  It  is  not  so  large  as  to  distract  the  eye 
by  an  extensive  area,  nor  so  small  as  to  appear  mean  or 
insignificant.  Perhaps  for  the  purposes  of  meditation, 


PEN-PICTURES.  57 

places  of  worship  of  a  moderate  size  are  to  be  preferred. 
Go  to  the  Bodleian,  or  to  any  other  great  library,  and, 
surrounded  by  the  mighty  host  of  books,  study  with  any 
great  advantage  if  you  can,  —  at  all  events,  I  never 
could ;  but,  retire  into  a  snug  apartment,  and  there  you 
may  easily  concentrate  your  ideas.  So  in  churches,  you 
may  be  more  entirely  devotional,  I  think,  in  the  cloister 
of  a  cathedral  than  in  the  vast  fabric  itself. 

In  the  church  I  am  speaking  of,  the  usual  arrange- 
ment exists.  A  gallery  runs  round  three  sides  of  an 
oblong,  the  fourth  being  occupied  by  a  fine  rosewood 
pulpit,  decorated  with  Norman  arches  on  its  front.  Be- 
hind it  are  two  arches  and  an  alcove  painted  in  fresco  — 
an  imitation  marble  tablet  being  displayed  beneath  each 
of  the  former,  on  which  are  respectively  inscribed  in 
letters  of  gold  — 


"  GOD  OUR  FATHER." 
"  CHRIST  OUR  SAVIOUR." 


Opposite  the  pulpit  is  an  organ  in  a  white,  slightly  orna- 
mented case,  with  gilded  pipes.  The  ceiling  is  neatly 
decorated,  and  looks  much  better  than  some  I  have 
noticed,  on  which  designs  like  cart  wheels  enormously 
magnified,  are  displayed.  I  can  think  of  no  more  ap- 
posite simile.  The  walls  are  tinted  with  a  delicate  hue ; 
and  thrQugh  the  buff- colored  Venetian  blinds,  and  dia- 
monded ground  glass  panes,  streams  a  mellow  light, 
which  may  be  styled  the  "  dim  religious."  The  pews 
are  commodiously  disposed,,  well  cushioned,  and  lined 
with  purple,  figured  stuff,  that  harmonizes  well  with 
surrounding  objects.  There,  reader,  you  have  a  pen  and 


58  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  OR, 

ink  description  of  the  interior  of  the  School  street  church, 
as  nearly  accurate,  at  least,  as  I  can  give  it. 

While  the  voluntary  was  being  played,  an  official  en- 
tered, bearing  a  tastefully  wrought  basket  filled  with 
bright  flowers  in  his  hand.  This,  somewhat  to  my  sur- 
prise, he  placed  on  the  table  in  front  of  the  pulpit. 
Presently  he  again  made  his  appearance,  and  this  time 
with  a  pair  of  vases,  also  filled  with  flowers  gracefully 
arranged,  which  were  placed  one  on  either  side  of  the 
basket  aforesaid.  A  third  time  came  the  flower-bearer, 
and  now  the  pulpit  itself  was  adorned  with  buds  and 
blossoms.  Happening  a  few  minutes  afterwards  to  turn 
my  head  in  the  direction  of  the  choir,  I  noticed  that  a 
pair  of  vases  of  flowers  stood  in  front  of  the  organ,  and 
carrying  my  investigations  a  little  farther,  to  my  surprise 
I  beheld  quite  a  novel  and  pretty  arrangement,  by  means 
of  which  every  gas  bracket  was  converted  into  a  bouquet 
holder.  Between  each  pair  of  burners  was  a  bunch  of 
flowers.  This  I  confess  rather  puzzled  me,  for  I  had 
never  seen  a  Protestant  church  so  adorned  before.  The 
effect  was,  to  me,  as  novel  as  it  was  beautiful.  I  was  spec- 
ulating as  to  whether  floral  decorations  was  a  usual  thing 
in  that  church,  a  conjecture  to  which  the  glass  bouquet 
holders  aforesaid  gave  some  color  of  probability,  when 
my  friend  whispered  in  my  ear,  "  We  are  close  on  the 
Fourth  of  July ; "  and  so  fully  accounted  for  the  presence 
of  the  flowers.  It  did  me  good  to  see  them  in  such  a 
place.  Mrs.  Hemans,  I  think  it  is,  who  says  or  sings  — 

"  Bring  flowers,  bright  flowers,  to  the  house  of  prayer, 
They  are  nature's  offerings ;  their  place  is  there ; " 


PEN-PICTUHES.  59 

And  she  was  right.  What  more  graceful  than  such 
adornments  ?  Some  straight-laced  people,  to  whom  I 
spoke  of  these  flowers,  condemned  their  appearance  in 
a  house  of  God,  and  muttered  something  about  "  Popish 
custom."  Bah  !  it  makes  one  sick  to  hear  such  misera- 
ble stuff  from  mortal  lips.  Why,  I'd  not  only  have 
flowers,  but  pictures  too  —  aye,  and  sculpture;  art,  in- 
deed, in  all  its  diviner  forms.  How  absurd  for  some 
people  to  groan  out,  (not  sing)  as  I  have  heard  them, 

"  Religion  never  was  designed 
To  make  our  pleasures  less," 

to  the  most  melancholy  of  tunes,  thus  by  their  doleful 
practice  belying  the  precept  on  their  tongues.  No  —  no. 
The  temple  of  the  Deity  should  be  like  a  certain  gate 
we  read  of  in  the  New  Testament,  called  "  Beautiful," 
and  what  more  fitted  to  adorn  it  than  the  "  lilies  of  the 
field,"  or  the  productions  of  that  genius  which  he  be- 
stows on  earth's  favored  few  ?  " 

The  minister  of  the  church  has  taken  his  place  in  the 
pulpit,  and,  rising,  offers  up  a  prefatory  prayer.  Then 
he  selects  a  hymn  which  carries  us  back  to  our  boyhood 
days,  when  we  used  to  sit  in  our  little  chair  by  the  side 
of  its  authoress,  Hannah  More.  Many  a  hymn  did  that 
venerable  woman  teach  us  years  and  years  ago,  and 
pleasant  are  our  remembrances  of  "Barley  Wood,"  her 
residence.  Elsewhere  have  we  sketched  our  recollec- 
tions of  Mrs.  More,  and  so  breathing  a  blessing  on  her 
memory,  we  sit  down. 


60  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  OR, 

The  choir  is  not  a  large  one — four  singers  only  stand- 
ing up.  It  is,  however,  very  effective  —  the  ladies 
having  remarkably  sweet  and  flexible  tones,  and  the 
gentlemen — especially  one  Lablache-ish  personage,  with 
curling  locks — possessing  musical  and  well-trained  voices. 
The  congregation  stand  facing  the  choir,  but  do  not 
chime  in,  so  that  the  two  ladies  and  the  brace  of  gentle- 
men, with  the  organist,  monopolize  the  music.  Some 
other  time  I  shall  have  something  to  say  about  this  ex- 
clusiveness  of  vocalism.  At  present  my  fast  filling  up 
space  warns  me  to  curb  my  pen. 

A  chapter  is  next  read,  and  the  minister  offers  up 
another  prayer.  It  breathes  the  very  air  of  devotion. 
Oh!  to  think  of  the  offensive  addresses  we  sometimes 
hear  addressed  to  the  Almighty!  Some  men  actually 
converse  with  the  Deity  instead  of  praying  to  him,  and 
bawl  as  though  "  the  still  small  voice  "  was  not  as  audible 
to  the  Creator  as  the  crash  of  echoing  thunder.  Here 
there  was  nothing  to  disturb,  but  everything  to  tone  the 
mind  to  a  devotional  and  holy  calm.  Softly  as  rose  the 
perfume  of  the  flowers  around,  streamed  upward  the 
incense  of  praise  and  prayer  from  that  pulpit  altar.  A 
sense  of  the  awful  presence  in  which  he  stood  —  of  the 
nothingness  of  self —  of  the  dignity  of  his  function,  and 
a  simplicity  of  manner  marked  the  efforts  of  the  pastor, 
and 

"  That  holy  calm  within  the  breast, 
A  pure,  sweet  pledge  of  perfect  rest," 

was  communicated  to  all  who  listened.     Then  another 


PEN-PICTURES.  61 

hymn  was  sung,  and  the  preacher  arose  to  commence  his 
discourse. 

But  let  me,  ere  I  allude  to  his  sermon,  endeavor  to 
sketch  the  personal  appearance  of  the  reverend  gentle- 
man who  is  to  deliver  it ;  though  this  is  the  less  neces- 
sary, as  a  very  fine  and  faithful  lithographic  likeness  of 
our  preacher  has  been  published.  Nevertheless,  as  there 
may  be  many  at  a  distance  who  are  strangers  alike  to 
both  portrait  and  original,  I  will  do  my  best  to  give  some 
idea  of  the  Rev.  A.  A.  MINER. 

Mr.  Miner  is  tall,  well  proportioned,  and  of  a  decided- 
ly attractive  appearance,  both  hi  the  pulpit  and  out  of 
it.  There  are  some  men  whose  countenances  at  once 
enlist  you  in  their  favor,  and  his  is  one  of  them.  Look, 
for  instance,  on  the  serene,  placid  and  lovely  (if  such 
an  expression  may  be  applied  to  a  man's  face,  and  why 
should  it  not  be  ?)  countenance  of  Bishop  Heber,  and 
doubt  if  you  can  that  it  belonged  to  a  lovable  and  loving 
spirit.  Then  again  there  is  James  Sherman,  of  Surrey 
Chapel,  London,  whose  face  is  the  very  index  of  benev- 
olence and  piety ;  and  Baptist  Noel,  with  whose  appear- 
ance all  are  familiar.  To  a  class  of  faces  of  this  kind 
belongs  Mr.  Miner's  features.  The  head  is  finely  shap- 
ed; over  the  high,  broad  expanse  of  forehead  is  dark 
brown  hair,  not  in  masses,  but  simply  and  unaffectedly 
disposed,  and  rather  revealing  the  fine  forehead  than 
adorning  or  concealing  it.  Very  gentle  and  soft  are  the 
eyes  in  their  expression ;  —  they  are  eyes  into  whose 
depths  you  may  gaze  with  the  certainty  that  they  are 
wells  of  thought  and  feeling.  Aquiline  is  the  nose  — 
6 


62  PULPIT   PORTRAITS:    OR, 

something  of  the  shape  of  Southey's,  but  not  quite  so 
prominent ;  indeed  the  mouth  and  the  whole  countenance 
reminded  us  much  of  the  Laureate,  as  we  saw  him  not 
very  long  before  his  death,  at  the  house  of  his  old  friend, 
Joseph  Cottle,  who  also  has  just  departed  to  join  his 
early  and  beloved  friends,  Wordsworth,  Coleridge,  South- 
ey,  and  otheig  "of  lesser  note."  Mr.  Miner's  com- 
plexion is  not  exactly  •  pallid,  nor  of  that  "interesting" 
trait  termed  "delicate;"  it  is  what  may,  perhaps,  be 
best  described  by  the  "  pale  cast  of  thought"  The  cast 
of  the  entire  countenance  is  uncommonly  pleasing,  and 
indicative  of  the  fine  mind  which  regulates  its  varied  ex- 
pression. When  in  repose,  it  is  full  of  a  calm  dignity  ; 
but  as  certain  sculptured  urns  only  display  the  graceful 
designs  on  their  surface,  when  lighted  up  from  within,  so 
the  countenance  of  our  preacher,  when  his  heart  is  excit- 
ed by  feeling  and  emotion,  reveals  aspects  unknown  and 
unseen  before.  And  one  great  charm  connected  with 
Mr.  Miner's  pulpit  appearance  is,  the  utter  absence  of 
anything  like  affectation  which  characterizes  him.  All  is 
simple,  natural,  and  therefore  effective.  The  fastidious 
Cowper  might  have  approved  of  it.  Of  all  affectations, 
that  of  the  pulpit  is  the  most  contemptible,  and  we  have 
more  than  once  quitted  in  disgust  churches  where  the 
preacher  either  flourished  his  bordered  bit  of  inspiration 
lawn,  as  did  Robert  ("  Satan  ")  Montgomery,  when  last 
we  heard  him;  or  simpered  out  contemptible  puerilities 
to  the  fashionable  folks,  who  in  well  cushioned,  velveted 
pews,  lounged  luxuriously,  as  they,  in  the  words  of  the 
rubric,  pronounced  themselves  to  be  "  miserable  sinners." 


PEN-PICTURES.  63 

Mr.  Miner's  style  of  pulpit-oratory  is  eminently  at- 
tractive. His  voice  is  distinct,  well  modulated  and 
melodious.  Accustomed  as  I  had  been  of  late  to  read 
sermons,  it  was  no  small  relief  to  me  to  discover  that 
though  Mr.  Miner  had  notes  before  him,  he  scarcely  did 
more  than  occasionally  refer  to  them.  To  all  intents  and 
purposes,  his  discourse  was  extemporaneop.  And  how 
much  more  forcible  was  it  on  that  very  account.  It  was 
evident  that  his  oratory  was  not  the  result  of  effort,  for 
no  man  that  I  ever  heard  revealed  more  plainly  than  he, 
how  much  more  he  felt  and  saw  than  he  was  able  to 
utter ;  his  eye  revealed  it.  His  sermon  was  illuminated 
by  its  delivery.  He  spoke,  as  it  seemed  to  me,  wholly 
without  art ;  he  never  sought  to  inflame  or  to  enrapture  ; 
in  speaking,  in  fact,  he  sought  to  do  nothing,  but  just 
talked  on — and  while  talking,  it  seemed  to  you  as  if 
words  and  ideas  happened  to  fall  in  that  strange  beauty 
of  combination,  almost  without  volition  on  the  part  of  the 
preacher.  The  mention  of  some  topics  seemed  instantly 
to  transport  him,  and  doubtless  he  might  describe  with 
enrapturing  fervor  the  progress  of  a  spirit  through  future 
ages,  in  knowledge  and  wisdom  ;  he  could  describe  a 
cherub  winged  upon  his  mission  through  the  infinite 
spheres.  It  seemed  as  if  figures  crowded  on  him,  and  he 
apparently  felt  the  difficulty  of  selection.  What  can  I 
better  say  to  describe  his  fluency  and  the  felicity  of  his 
illustrations,  but  that  language  flowed  from  his  lips  as 
music  flies  from  the  string  ?  Sometimes  his  sentences 
are  laden  with  gold,  and  at  others  even  touching  in  their 
pathos. 


64  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  OR, 

During  this  particular  sermon,  Mr.  Miner  paid  a  grace- 
ful tribute  to  the  memory  of  the  late  Dr.  Sharp ;  and 
this  struck  us  more  forcibly  inasmuch  as  it  was  tendered 
by  a  minister  of  one  of  the  most  liberal  to  another  of  one 
of  the  most  particular  of  sects.  In  the  course  of  the 
morning  too,  he  quoted  from  Bailey's  "  Festus,"  and 
recommendec^  the  young  the  perusal  of  "  James  Mount- 
joy,  or,  I've  been  thinking,"  which  ought  to  be  a  capital 
advertisement  of  that  tale.  Sundry  aphorisms,  also, 
were  scattered  through  the  discourse,  such  as  "  Toleration 
must  be  intolerant  to  intolerance,  else  toleration  becomes 
intolerance."  But  I  must  forbear,  and  close  this  sketeh 
of  Mr.  Miner  by  quoting  what  I  once  said  of  a  "  kindred 
spirit"  of  the  English  pulpit.  "Estimable  and  excel- 
lent !  may  he  long  occupy  his  position,  —  a  position  which 
he  dignifies  by  Iris  talents,  and  adorns  with  his  virtues." 


CHAPTER    VI. 

COPP'S    HILL.        MONUMENTAL    MOCKERY.        SALEM     STREET 
CHURCH.        THE  REV.  EDWARD  BEECHER,  D.  D. 

LET  people  say  what  they  please  about  the  beauty  of 
cemeteries,  for  my  part,  I  far  prefer  a  stroll  through  the 
avenues  or  irregular  paths  of  some  ancient  burying 


PEN-PICTURES.  65 

ground.  Sanitory  measures  left  out  of  the  question,  the 
old  places  where  the  "  rude  fathers  of  the  city  sleep," 
with  their  mouldering  monuments  and  frail  records  of 
scarcely  more  enduring  love,  the  ancient  places  of  sepul- 
ture are  superior  in  many  respects.  Here,  in  this  old 
city  Golgotha,  for  instance,  this  "  Copp's  Hill,"  as  it  is 
called,  how  much  is  there  to  inform  and  hQtr  much  more 
to  suggest.  With  the  Sabbath  calm  over  ana  around,  and 
the  hum  of  the  city  subdued,  we  wander  among  the  an- 
cient graves,  at  one  moment  deciphering  some  half-worn 
out  inscription,  and  in  the  next  gazing  on  the  grim  emblems 
of  mortality  which  adorn  (?)  many  a  head  stone.  What 
strange  notions  the  old  tombstone  sculptors  must  have 
had  of  angels,  if  these  effigies — mere  heads  and  wings 
—  embraced  their  conceptions  of  one  portion  of  the 
heavenly  host.  And  yet,  after  all,  I  am  not  sure  whether 
I  would  not  rather  look  on  them,  noseless  and  time- 
battered  as  many  of  them  are,  than  on  the  more  ambi- 
tious attempts  of  some  of  our  cemetery  monument  makers. 
At  least,  these  are  free  from  the  vice  of  affectation,  and 
that  cannot  be  said  of  not' a  few  of  the  ambitious  marbles 
of  Mount  Auburn.  All  trickeries  of  art  are  to  be  depre- 
cated, but  more  especially  those  which  would  seek  to 
mock  the  decaying  dust  below.  There  are,  to  be  sure,  a 
few  appropriate  emblems  of  modern  origin.  Such  as  a 
broken  shaft,  and  the  like ;  but  these  have  become  so 
stereotyped,  and  are  sometimes  so  inappropriate  to  the 
character  and  circumstances  of  the  persons  they  profess 
to  symbolize,  that  they  lose  all  their  charm.  It  was  only 
the  other  clay  that  I  saw  a  fractional  shaft,  with  a  broken 
6* 


• 

66  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  OR, 

rose-bud  on  its  pedestal,  crowning  the  grave  of  a  lady  of 
the  ripe  age  of  sixty-nine.  Rather  a  venerable  rose-bud 
that,  me  thought.  And  then  the  graven  and  gilded  trash 
which  now-a-days  is  displayed  on  tomb-stones,  how  unfa- 
vorably does  it  compare  with  the  simply  and  touching 
tributes  that  we  meet  with  in  humble  burying-grounds. 
Marble  gunsJfcpris  "  dyed  in  bloocT,"  and  all  the  pomp 
and  circumstance  of  war,  are  not  things  to  decorate  the 
narrow  house  ;  neither  are  cables,  ships  firing  broadsides, 
and  mutilated  mariners,  fitting  embellishments  of  the  last 
home  of  mortality.  Flowers,  if  'you  like,  reader,  "  a 
crown  for  the  brow  of  the  early  dead,"  or  a  garland  for 
the  form  of  reverend  age,  for  they  are  themselves  glorious 
symbols  of  the  "  resurrection  and  the  life ; "  but  away 
with  all  the  insignia  of  pride  from  that  place,  where,  if  on 
any  spot  beneath  the  skies,  humility  should  reign  supreme. 
So  tempting  had  been  the  early  morning,  that  I  had 
hastily  quitted  books  and  breakfast  for  the  purpose  of 
open  air  meditation ;  and  my  almost  unheeded  footsteps 
had  guided  me,  by  pure  chance,  to  Copp's  Hill,  a  fitting 
place  for  a  Sabbath  morning's  reverie, —  a  great  open 
book,  on  whose  solemn  pages  the  history  of  mankind  was 
legibly  written,  and  divided  into  but  two  chapters  — 
BIRTH  and  DEATH  !  A  few  solitary  folks,  like  myself, 
were  sauntering  along  the  avenues ;  several  aged  per- 
sons rested  on  the  flat  stones,  and  now  and  then  a  little 
child  —  "what  should  it  know  of  death?"  —  toddled 
among  the  grass  and  plucked  wild  flowers.  All  was 
peaceful  and  serene  ;  but  suddenly,  as  I  lingered  there, 
the  sound  of  a  church-going  bell,  or  rather  the  iron 


* 

PEN-PICTURES.  67 

tongues  of  a  multitude  of  such,  rang  out  their  harmonious 
invitations  to  church  ;  and  from  one  tower  came  floating 
on  the  wind  the  chiming  tones  of  the  "  Old  Hundreth." 
Then  there  was  a  brief  pause,  and  another  tune  was 
played  on  the  srime  bells,  which  agreeably  varied  the 
monotonous  tolling  x|rom  other  steeples.  Quitting  the 
venerable  place  of  graves,  I  soon  reachecLjfae  settled  ter- 
mination of  my  tour  —  Salem  street. 

SALEM  !  How  musical  is  the  sound  of  many  of  the 
Hebrew  words.  Take  the  name  of  the  Holy  City,  for 
example  ;  why,  the  melody  of  the  syllables  is  perfect  — 
JERUSALEM  !  Can  anything  be  more  harmonious  to  the 
ear  than  that  name,  when  uttered  by  a  pleasant  voice  ? 
It  seems  to  run  into  music  of  its  own  accord.  And  Sa- 
lem !  —  city  or  abode  of  Peace  !  — the  complete  or  per- 
fect city,  —  what  a  beautiful  name  for  some  retired 
place,  where  the  scream  of  the  railway  whistle  has  never 
been  heard.  But  we  question  the  propriety  of  calling  a 
business  street,  in  a  great  commercial  city,  by  such  an 
appellation.  From  what  little  I  know  of  it,  I  should  say 
that  it  was  anything  but  a  "  place  of  peace."  Like  the 
other  Salem,  it  has  towers,  but  they  are  by  no  means 
"  shining ;"  and  as  for  "  golden  glories,"  there  be  none. 
The  only  "  golden"  objects  that  I  could  discern  were 
certain  balls  which  here  and  there  decorated  the  shops 
of  pawn-brokers,  who  display  pretty  profusely  the  arms  of 
the  old  Lombards  in  this  particular  locality. 

Following  the  stream  of  humanity  which  is  flowing 
along  the  rather  narrow  sidewalks,  I  came  to  Salem 
street  church,  of  which  the  Rev.  Edward  Beecher  is  pas- 


68  PULPIT  PORTRAITS  :    OR, 

tor.  Like  his  venerable  father,  the  well  known  pioneer 
of  the  temperance  cause,  he  is  a  Doctor  of  Divinity  ;  — 
it  need  scarcely  be  added  that  he  is  the  brother  of  Mrs. 
Harriet  Beecher  Stowe,  and  that  he  belongs  to  a  family 
of  clergymen.  "  A  Beecher,"  and  "  a  minister,"  are 
almost  synonymous  terms  ;  so  much  so  that  should  we  in 
our  wandering^behold  a  sign-board  on  which  is  inscribed 
"  Beecher,  Grocer,"  or  "  Beecher,  Apothecary,"  we  may 
rub  our  eyes  under  the  impression  that  our  optics  deceive 
us,  and  that  the  eternal  "  fitness  of  things"  is,  after  all, 
a  fiction. 

A  very  interesting  article  might  be  written, —  and  may 
have  been,  for  ought  I  know, —  on  the  BEECHER  family 
—  certainly  one  of  the  most  remarkable  household  groups, 
even  in  these  United  States,  where  whole  families  of  ce- 
lebrities, such  as  the  "  Hutchinson  family,"  and  others, 
are  by  no  means  uncommon.  In  other  parts  of  the 
world,  extraordinary  talent  commonly  characterizes  but 
one  member  of  the  domestic  community,  —  for  one  wise 
son  there  are  usually  half  a  dozen  blockheads ;  but  the 
New  World  has,  among  its  other  novelties,  regular 
"  hives  "  of  smart  boys  and  girls.  The  boy  Jabez,  with 
his  jack-knife,  whittles  his  way  into  celebrity  with  a  doz- 
en of  the  family  at  his  heels,  —  not  as  in  poor  Old  Eng- 
land, where  one  favored  child  commonly  flings  all  the  rest 
into  the  shade.  Verily,  this  is  a  great  country,  and  con- 
spicuous among  its  great  guns  is,-  as  I  have  intimated, 
the  Beecher  family.  Of  its  distinguished  trunk,  and  of 
its  New  York  branch,  I  may  have  occasion  hereafter 
to  speak,  therefore  I  shall  not  diverge  for  the  purpose  of 


PEN-PICTURES.  69 

more  directly  alluding  to  them  in  this  place  ;  so  let  the 
reader  accompany  me  as  I  enter  Salem  street  church. 

The  edifice  is  situated  at  the  corner  of  Salem  and 
North  Bennett  streets,  and  is  built  of  brick.  It  has  a 
swelled  front,  and  is  surmounted  by  a  turret,  which,  ar- 
chitecturally regarded,  is  much  too  heavy.  It  has,  on 
the  whole,  a  sombre  appearance,  and  pres^pts  a  striking 
contrast  to  some  of  the  exceedingly  neat  ecclesiastical 
structures  that  are  to  be  seen  in  various  other  parts  of 
the  city.  Four  pastors  have  occupied  its  pulpit,  viz :  — 
Rev.  Justin  Edwards,  D.  D. ;  Rev.  George  Blagden, 
D.  D. ;  Rev.  Joshua  H.  Towne ;  which  latter  divine 
was  succeeded  on  the  13th  of  March,  1844,  by  the  pres- 
ent pastor,  Dr.  Edward  Beecher. 

But  there  goes  the  present  minister  down  the  aisle ; 
and  as  he  takes  his  seat  in  the  sacred  desk,  carelessly 
wiping  his  palms  with  his  handkerchief,  which  handker- 
chief is  afterwards  passed  over  the  high  and  shining 
forehead,  the  organ  peals  forth  a  voluntary. 

It  is  seldom  enough  that  I  pay  compliments,  especially 
to  performers  of  music  ;  for  it  has  become  so  much  a  mat- 
ter of  course  to  exalt  to  the  seventh  heaven  of  excellence 
every  one  who  decently  draws  a  bow,  or  touches  a  key, 
that  persons  of  undoubted  genius  are  naturally  apt  to  de- 
spise the  approbation  that  is  awarded  with  so  little  dis- 
crimination. Nevertheles,  I  feel  desirous  of  rendering 
my  tribute  of  praise  to  the  organist  of  Salem  street  chap- 
el, who  is  a  fine  performer  on  his  noble  instrument. 
Perhaps  this  compliment  (if  such  it  be)  may  lose  none 
of  its  value,  when  I  add,  that,  though  I  have  listened  to 


70  PULPIT  PORTRAITS?    OR, 

the  marvellous  extemporaneous  efforts  of  the  late  Felix 
Mendelssholn  Bartholdy,  and  to  the  wonderful  execution 
and  almost  inspiration  of  the  finest  of  living  organists, 
Dr.  Charles  Wesley,  yet  the  playing  of  the  organist  at 
Dr.  Beecher's  church  suggested  no  "  odious  "  compari- 
sons. What  the  gentleman's  name  may  be  I  know  not, 
but  whoever  he  is,  he  might  acquit  himself  creditably  as 
organist  of  any  cathedral  in  Christendom. 

Had  I  not  been  aware  of  the  name  of  the  preacher,  I 
should,  I  think,  have  at  once  recognized  the  Beecher 
face ;  the  mouth,  especially,  being  extremely  character- 
istic of  the  tribe  to  which  it  belongs.  Dr.  Edward 
Beecher  has  a  fine  Wordsworthian  sort  of  head ;  a  high 
forehead,  broadest  at  its  upper  portion,  and  partially  bald 
on  the  summit.  The  crown  of  the  head,  too,  is  thinned  of 
its  hair.  The  locks  that  yet  remain  are  crisp  and  curl- 
ing, and  are,  as  Southey  said  of  his  own, 


** half  way 

On  the  road  from  grizzle  to  gray." 

Below  the  expansive  forehead  are  a  pair  of  large,  liquid, 
bluish  gray  eyes,  calm  in  their  repose,  yet  with  a  lurk- 
ing humor  playing  among  their  coats  and  lenses  that 
does  not  destroy  their  seriousness.  The  nose  is  large 
and  well  chiselled ;  the  mouth  a  trifle  too  large  for  sym- 
metry. As  for  the  general  appearance  of  our  preacher, 
it  is  merely  necessary  to  remark  that  there  is  a  sort  of 
free-and-easy-ness  about  both  dress  and  manners  which 
sufficiently  indicate  that  he  scorns  anything  like  ministe- 
rial foppery.  In  this  respect,  he  somewhat  reminded  us 


PEN-PICTURES.  71 

of  another  great  thinker  — (for,  reader,  we  may  at  once 
say  that  Dr.  Edward  Beecher  is  a   great  thinker)  — 
John  Foster,  though  the  Boston  minister  does  not  carry 
his  disregard  of  conventionalities  to  quite  so  great  an 
extent  as  did  the  Essayist  of  Bristol.     Neither  of  them, 
however,  could  have  belonged  to  a  race  of  men  —  and 
such  there  are  —  who  fancy  that  their  piety  is  in  pro- 
portion to  their  dirt..    Many  of  our  students  and  others 
have  a  trick  of  abstraction  and  vacancy  ;  we  sometimes 
meet  with  interesting  greenhorn  youths,   with   a  sleek, 
footman-looking,  whitey-brown  appearance  about  them  ; 
I  moral  mulattoes,  determined  to  impress  you  with  the  idea 
of  their  profound  obliviousness  to  all  around  them,  while 
you,  unfortunately,   found  them  oblivious  only  of  their 
|  own  vanity.     Of  such  creatures  we  think  not,  when  we 
|  refer  to  those  who  are  not  ambitious  of  always  looking  as 
:  though  they  had  just  come  out  of  a  band-box. 

To  return  to  Foster,  of  whom  we  said  Dr.  Edward 
Beecher  somewhat  reminded  us,  in  this  matter  of  eti- 
:  quette.  Our  present  subject,  however,  would  never  walk 
1  four  miles,  as  we  have  known  "  glorious  John  "  do,  in  a 
gray  old  ink- stained  study-gown,  and  trudge  up  into  the 
pulpit  of  a  crowded  chapel  in  ignorance  of  his  condition 
and  dress.  It  may  be  that  such  entire  abstraction  is  not 
desirable.  In  manner,  a  very  great  difference  exists  (or 
existed  for  the  one  part)  between  these  two  men.  Foster 
had  a  careless,  slouching  gait ;  Beecher  has  quite  a  non- 
chalantic  air.  Foster  in  his  abstraction  was  utterly  re- 
gardless of  life ;  he  seemed  sometimes  to  cut  the  last 
mooring,  and  sail  away  through  the  pure  seas  of  thought. 


72  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  OR, 

Beecher,  we  dare  say,  never  does  this ;  his  abstraction 
is  seldom  entire.  •  Look  at  the  shock  head  of  Foster ;  a 
tangled  mass  of  hair,  combed  into  propriety  with  brambles 
—  very  different  to  the  fine,  open  brow  of  Beecher,  sur- 
rounded with  short,  iron  gray  locks ;  yet  both  heads  are 
the  heads  of  profound  men  ;  indeed,  of  philosophers. 

Two  things  give  currency  to  the  fame  of  a  popular  or- 
ator ;  either  the  possession  of  a  mannerism,  an  idiosyn- 
crasy of  appearance,  voice,  gesture,  stamping  that  man 
in  his  talking  as  one  altogether  unlike  any  other,  or  the 
utterance  of  words  altogether  beyond  count,  compared 
with  the  number  of  ideas.  Now  Dr.  Beecher  professes 
neither  of  these  fortunate  peculiarities ;  he  has  his  man- 
ner, but  is  neither  gaudy,  nor  meretricious,  nor  noisy,  nor 
eccentric.  His  voice  does  sometimes  rise,  and  the  author 
of  "  Crayon  Sketches,"  in  his  notice  of  him,  says :  "  He 
often  seems  to  attempt  to  work  up  his  feelings  to  a  pitch 
of  intense  excitement.  Under  such  circumstances,  there 
will  be  noise  without  eloquence,  extreme  gesture  without 
extreme  unction.  In  that  way  he  exchanges  the  sublime 
for  the  sledge  hammer  style."  It  has  not  fallen  to  my 
lot  to  witness  such  Boanergic  efforts ;  but  it  would  be 
strange,  indeed,  if  in  a  Beecher  there  was  not  occasional 
outbursts. 

Dr.  Beecher  is  seldom  wordy ;  not  often  is  it  that  he 
uses  a  word  too  much;  you  seldom  feel  that  another 
word  could  have  better  served  the  purpose  of  that  one, 
never ,  unless  the  speaker  has  been  hurried  along,  as  he 
sometimes  is,  by  a  more  impulsive  and  impetuous  motion 
than  that  which  characterizes  his  ordinary  style.  Of  few 


PEN-PICTURES.  73 

preachers  may  it  be  more  emphatically  said,  that  words 
represent  things  ;  and  therefore,  those  who  want  mere 
words  can  never  feel  much  satisfaction  in  attending  Salem 
street  church ;  but  those  to  whom  words  are  the  sheath- 
ing of  ideas — the  shell  which  must  be  cracked  to  dis- 
close the  kernel  —  will  find,  perhaps,  every  sermon  weal- 
thy ;  suggestive  in  the  highest  degree.  The  work  is  not 
all  done  for  you  when  the  sermon  is  over ;  you  may  beat 
out  from  the  "  nuggets"  of  the  shining  ore,  thoughts  for 
a  lifetime. 

Dr.  Edward  Beecher  does  not  confine  himself  closely 
to  his  notes.  Occasionally  with  one  hand  buried  in 
the  folds  of  his  vest,  he  extemporizes  fluently,  and  then 
we  like  him  best.  Untrammelled  by  the  written  page,  his 
thoughts  take  a  bolder  and  a  wider  flight ;  and  then  it  is 
remarkable  to  notice  how  his  eyes  kindle,  and  his  face 
becomes  the  index  of  his  mind.  From  his  discourses  a 
volume  of  pithy  sayings  might  be  selected,  such  as  "  His- 
tory is  the  judgment  seat  of  the  world,"  and  the  like. 
The  series  of  lectures  on  Church  History,  which  he  is 
now  delivering  on  Sabbath  mornings,  are  unique,  and 
supply  a  blank  which  has  long  existed,  for  hitherto  we 
have  failed  to  recognize  the  importance  of  a  general  and 
popular  history  of  the  church.  Truly  did  the  preacher 
say  in  his  opening  lecture,  that  it  is  the  central  and  most 
important  subject  of  God's  Book  of  Providence. 

We  believe  it  is  universally  admitted  that  Dr.  Edward 
Beecher  ranks  among  the  most  profound  divines  of  the 
day.  His  opinions,  in  all  matters  connected  with  his  sa- 
cred office,  possess  great  weight  with  his  ministerial 
7 


74  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  OR, 

brethren  as  well  as  with  the  laity,  and  if  he  is  not  so 
popular  with  the  multitude  as  his  brother  Henry,  his 
reputation  rests  perhaps  on  a  more  durable  foundation. 
He  is  one  of  the  editors  of  The  Congregationalist,  a 
first  class  religious  newspaper,  to  whose  columns  he  fre- 
quently contributes  articles  pregnant  with  power.  In 
common  with  his  family  he  is  a  stout  advocate  of  the 
Temperance  cause.  At  one  time  he  was,  I  believe, 
President  of  a  western  College.  At  present  he  un- 
doubtedly stands  in  the  first  rank  of  American  preachers 
and  theologians. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

BROOKLYN,  ANCIENT  AND  MODERN.  ITS  CHURCHES.  A 
WORD  OR  TWO  ON  CHURCH  ARCHITECTURE  AS  IT  IS 
AND  AS  IT  SHOULD  BE.  DR.  COX?S  CHURCH.  SKETCH 
OF  THE  PREACHER.  HIS  STYLE.  HIS  DEFEAT  OF  THE 
MORMONS.  ANECDOTE  OF  WM.  JAY. 

A  PLEASANT  place  is  the  suburban  city  of  Brooklyn, 
with  its  tree-bordered  streets,  its  spacious  avenues,  its 
"Heights"  commanding  a  charming  prospect  of  river, 
bay,  and  the  countless  host  of  buildings  in  the  great 
mart  opposite.  Pleasant,  too,  is  the  quiet  which  reigns 


PEN-PICTURES.  75 

within  its  borders ;  doubly  so,-  from  the  contrast  which 
the  saunterer  in  streets,  named  after  "  willow,"  or 
"  chestnut,"  finds  after  the  brief  ferry- voyage  from  the 
noisy  thoroughfares  of  New  York.  Indeed  some  por- 
tions of  Brooklyn  remain  to  this  day  almost  as  still  as 
they  were  in  the  days  when  Sarah  Rapelye,  the  first 
white  child,  was  born  on  Long  Island,  some  two  hundred 
and  twenty-eight  years  ago.  But  how  changed,  taken 
altogether,  is  the  scene  !  A  writer  in  Harper's  Magazine, 
speaking  of  the  growth  of  this  city,  says :  "  The  hills 
around  were  called  BreucTden  (broken  land)  by  the 
Dutch,  and  the  orthoepy  has  but  little  changed,  now  that 
a  beautiful  city  covers  their  slopes  and  crowns  their  sum- 
mits, and  the  Dutch  language  is  no  more  heard." 

Perhaps  there  is  no  feature  of  this  charming  city 
which  so  forcibly  strikes  a  stranger,  as  the  multitude  of 
churches  that  are  here  to  be  met  with.  Scarcely  a 
street  is  there  in  which  you  may  not  find  at  least  one. 
Sometimes  three  or  four  cluster  together,  and,  seen  from 
a  little  distance,  spires  and  towers  appear  almost  as 
numerous  as  the  dwelling  houses.  "  The  City  of 
Churches"  it  has  well  been  named,  but  it  is  only  of  late 
years  that  it  has  attained  to  such  ecclesiastical  dignity. 
In  the  year  1811,  Brooklyn  contained  but  three  churches, 
the  worshippers  in  which  were  chiefly  from  the  adjacent 
farms.  In  the  Brooklyn  of  eighteen  hundred  and  fifty- 
three,  there  is  scarcely  a  religious  sect  (and  their  name 
is  legion)  which  has  not  there  its  own  particular  place  of 
worship. 

Many  of  these  are  very  beautiful.     It  is,  however,  a 


70 

great  pity  that  church  architects  in  this  country  do  not 
study  a  little  more  profoundly  the  principles  of  their  art. 
It  would  be  extremely  difficult,  I  fancy,  for  any  one, 
even  though  he  were  as  well  skilled  in  such  matters  as 
the  late  Welby  Pugin,  or  Mr.  Ruskin,  the  gifted  author 
of  the  "  Seven  Lamps  of  Architecture,"  to  refer  some 
of  these  Brooklyn  churches  to  any  known  order  of  arch- 
itecture. 

The  Tuscan  Doric  —  Ionic,  Corinthian,  and  Composite, 
are  so  inextricably  blended  with  the  Gothic,  Saracenic, 
Moorish,  Mediaeval,  Grecian,  and  I  know  not  how  many 
more  styles,  that  a  complete  brick  and  mortar  or  sand- 
stone olla  podrida  is  the  result.  I  have  seen  a  Gothic 
door,  a  Norman  window,  Corinthian  pillars  and  portico, 
and  Doric  pilasters,  all  mixed  up  in  the  same  structure ! 
And  then  the  monstrous  turrets,  or  towers,  and  steeples 
which  stand  glittering  in  the  sun  —  wretched  monuments 
of  the  bad  taste,  or  rather  lack  of  it,  in  the  persons  who 
designed  them.  Luckily,  a  better  time  seems  to  be  at 
hand,  for  here  and  there  we  see  indications  of  the  striv- 
ing after  a  purity  and  unity  of  style  which  shows  that 
much  as  the  public  taste  has  been  vitiated,  it  is  not  alto- 
gether destroyed. 

The  church  in  which  Dr.  Cox  officiates  exhibits  much 
of  this  decided  improvement.  It  is  situated  in  one  of 
the  chief  streets  of  the  city  —  Henry  street,  if  my 
memory  serves  me  rightly,  and  high  above  the  houses 
around  soars  its  brown  tower.  It  is  in  the  Gothic  style, 
which,  few  will  doubt,  is  that  most  fitted  for  ecclesias- 
tical edifices.  And  one  great  advantage  over  all  other 


PEN-PICTURES.  77 

styles  it  has,  namely,  that  it  is  as  well  suited  to  a  church 
of  small  dimensions  as  to  a  mighty  cathedral.  Seldom, 
however,  except  in  the  architecture  of  the  middle  ages, 
do  we  meet  with  pure  specimens  of  it;  for  in  most 
modern  erections,  the  florid,  middle-age,  and  the  simple 
Gothic  are  generally  blended,  or  rather  jumbled.  In  the 
particular  church  now  under  consideration,  the  "florid" 
predominates  to  a  fault,  so  that  what  is  gained  in  polish 
and  elaborate  carving,  is  lost  in  force.  The  severity  of 
simplicity  is  entirely  destroyed  by  too  great  a  profusion 
of  corbel,  bracket  and  mullion. 

But  the  greatest  fault  in  American  Gothic  churches  is 
to  be  found  in  their  painted  windows.  These,  in  most 
instances,  are,  as  works  of  art,  ridiculous,  and  as  orna- 
ments, singularly  inappropriate.  Instead  of  the  judi- 
cious arrangement  of  color,  so  that  a  soft  and  chastened 
tone  may  be  produced,  how  often  does  it  happen  that  we 
see  great  flaring,  vulgar  shawl-patterns  on  the  windows. 
Painted  windows,  indeed  ?  why,  they  bear  about  the 
same  relation  to  the  artistic  glories  of  some  old  Europe- 
an windows,  that  a  flaunting  and  rouged  female  does  to 
a  rosy  and  unsophisticated  belle  of  the  village.  The 
secret  is,  there  is  too  much  of  a  love  for  the  showy  — 
the  mere  gaudy,  and  until  that  penchant  for  glitter  and 
gaud  is  banished,  there  will  not  be  any  reform  in  this 
matter  —  nay,  though  there  should  be  a  Chrystal  Palace 
in  every  city  with  its  imported  splendors  to  rebuke  it. 

But  here  I  am  within  Dr.  Cox's  church ;  not  seated, 
though,  but  standing  humbly  in  the  aisle  awaiting  the 
stranger's  turn.  And  long  enough  I  wait,  too,  though 
7* 


78  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  on, 

I  perceive  many  a  vacant  seat.  However,  a  friendly 
eye  at  last  beholds  me,  and  quickly  am  I  comfortably 
placed. 

The  church  is  judiciously  lighted,  —  not  too  much 
glare,  but  a  soft,  "  dim  religious  light"  hangs  over  and 
around  every  object.  The  pews,  doors,  etc.,  are  either 
of  some  dark  wood,  or  well  painted  in  imitation  thereof. 
The  pulpit  is  extremely  handsome,  being  most  elaborately 
carved  and  quite  novel  in  its  form,  partaking  somewhat 
of  the  "screen"  shape.  Every  aisle  was  carpeted, 
every  pew  comfortably  cushioned ;  and  as  I  sat  I  could 
not  but  think  how  different  it  was  with  the  Pilgrim  Fa- 
thers, when,  years  and  years  ago,  on  the  "  wild  New 
England  shore,"  they  first  worshipped  God  amid  the 
perils  of  the  unknown  wilderness.  Whether  modern  ac- 
commodations go  hand  in  hand  with  a  greater  profusion 
of  piety,  is  a  question  I  cannot  answer.  Two  young 
gentlemen  who  were  reading  that  morning's  edition  of 
the  Herald,  and  conversing  loud  enough  for  me  to  hear 
them  two  seats  off,  seemed  to  imply  that  the  moderns  are 
not  quite  so  strict  in  their  church  etiquette  as  were  the 
gray  old  gentlemen  just  referred  to.  I  should  like  to 
know  how  they  would  have  served  a  young  fellow  who 
was  discovered  whilst  reading  anything  besides  a  Bible 
or  a  Psalm-Book  during  "  meeting"  time. 

After  the  usual  preliminary  services  —  singing,  read- 
ing, and  prayer,  the  minister  of  the  place  advanced  to 
the  front  of  his  highly  ornamented  pulpit.  He  certainly, 
in  his  plain  dress  and  primitive  appearance,  afforded  a 
strong  contrast  to  its  Gothic  adornments.  Dr.  Cox  is, 


TEN-PICTURES.  79 

Zaccheus-like,  of  low  stature,  about  the  height,  in  fact, 
of  the  late  Dr.  Sharp,  and,  like  that  departed  worthy, 
he  holds  a  very  prominent  position  in  the  Christian 
church.  His  form  is,  however,  more  fully  developed, 
though  it  cannot  be  called  "  fleshy,"  than  that  of  the 
Boston  divine.  The  head  and  face  are  full  of  "  charac- 
ter," as  portrait  painters  have  it.  From  the  former 
stream  down  over  the  collar  of  the  coat  silver  locks, 
which  impart  a  most  venerable  air  to  the  aspect  of  the 
preacher.  The  forehead  is  good,  the  eyes  brilliant  and 
piercing  —  extraordinarily  so  in  so  old  a  man ;  for  time, 
though  he  has  relentlessly  stamped  the  marks  of  the 
"crow's  feet"  at  their  outer  angles,  has  spared  their 
lustre.  The  nose  is  small ;  the  mouth,  thin-lipped,  com- 
pressed, with  a  drag  downward  at  its  angles,  and  the 
chin  small  and  somewhat  projecting.  You  could  not 
look  on  that  face  without  feeling  sure  that  it  belonged  to 
a  man  of  vigorous  mind  ;  nor  phrenologically  survey  that 
head  without  being  convinced  that  it  was  on  the  shoul- 
ders of  a  person  who  had  a  will  of  his  own,  and  chose  to 
do  pretty  much  as  he  liked.  It  reminded  me  somewhat 
of  the  cranium  of  the  late  John  Quincy  Adams,  and  I 
believe  that  that  revered  politician  very  much  relished, 
as  do  many  more  of  us,  to  have  his  own  way. 

I  had  fully  expected  from  Dr.  Cox's  staid  and  sedate 
appearance,  that  I  should  hear  one  of  those  old-school 
sort  of  sermons  which  seem  to  be  so  much  in  character 
with  a  long  career  and  gray  hairs.  But  I  was  mistaken. 
Scarcely  had  the  reverend  gentleman  read  his  text  than 
he  flew  off  at  a  tangent  into  a  field  of  thought  which  I 


80  PULPIT  PORTRAITS  :    OR, 

should  never  have  dreamed  would  have  been  suggested 
thereby ;  and  during  the  whole  discourse  he  never  once 
referred  to  it.  So  far  as  a  text  went,  any  other  passage 
picked  at  random  from  Genesis  to  Revelation  would 
have  passed  muster  just  as  well.  But  as  the  preacher 
proceeded,  it  was  evident  that  he  had  within  his  fertile 
brain  a  large  fund  of  original  thought,  a  vast  amount  of 
shrewdness,  and  ample  store  of  good  solid  learning ;  — 
not  your  modern,  flashy  scholarship,  your  spurious  men- . 
tal  coinage ;  but  genuine  gold,  the  scuff  which  rings  as 
well  as  shines,  and  passes  current  anywhere.  You  could 
see,  plainly  enough,  that  no  shallow  thinker  stood  before 
you,  but  one  who  had  gone  down  deep  into  the  mines  of 
truth,  and  had  dug  out  rich  ore  from  thence.  1  toe 
was  a  dignity,  too,  in  his  style ;  he  spake  as  one  having 
authority,  and  he  bound  up  his  beauties  within  small 
sententious  circles.  Occasionally  he  flung  out  a  sly 
sarcasm,  or  heaped  ridicule  on  some  dogma,  or  disposed 
with  a  back-handed  logical  blow  of  some  error,  but  al- 
ways with  an  air  of  calmness  that  added  weight  to  what 
he  uttered.  Like  William  Jay,  of  Bath,  he  now  and 
then  said  things  which  made  one  smile,  but  there  was  no 
buffoonery,  no  low  humor ;  he  evidently  felt  that  the 
pulpit  was  no  place  for  a  jest,  the  church  no  tilting  ground 
for  wit. 

Occasionally  Dr.  Cox  utters  some  very  pithy  sayings ; 
he  has  the  happy  faculty  of  giving  to  commonplace  ideas 
an  attractiveness,  by  clothing  them  in  quaint  language. 
He  is  fond,  also,  of  odd  analogies;  for  instance,  speak- 
ing of  persons  who  profess  to  do  a  vast  deal  for  religion 


PEN-PICTURES.  81 

without  really  possessing  any,  he  said  that  some  resembled 
Noah's  carpenters,  who  built  a  ship  in  which  other  people 
were  saved,  although  they  were  drowned  themselves. 
Many  illustrations  of  this  faculty  might  be  adduced,  but 
space  forbids  me  to  pen  them  in  this  place. 

Dr.  Cox  is  a  preacher,  sui  generis,  —  "none  but 
himself  can  be  his  parallel."  No  one  ventures  to  imitate 
him,  and  he  is  above  copying  from  any  model  whatever. 
As  to  style,  properly  speaking,  he  has  none ;  or  if  he 
has,  it  is  one  manufactured  by  himself,  and  is  not,  as  a 
whole,  referrable  to  any  known  order  of  eloquence. 
Sometimes  he  displays  quite  a  Mosaic  effect,  a  dash  of 
Demosthenes,  a  clipping  from  Cicero,  a  piece  of  Pindar, 
some  of  Paul's  energy,  St.  John's  warmth,  Peter's  en- 
thusiasm, with  none  of  Thomas's  hesitation.  All  of 
these  now  and  then  combine  to  make  up  discourses  that 
are  perfectly  unique.  But  the  reader  who  desires  to 
form  any  accurate  idea  of  Dr.  Cox,  should  go  and  hear 
him  for  him  or  herself.  In  the  pulpit  he  is  eminent,  and 
as  a  platform  speaker  few  are  more  efficient,  and  it  may 
be  added,  useful. 

We  have  already  noticed  some  eccentricities  of  Dr. 
Cox.  He  has  recently  published  a  somewhat  eccentric 
book,  in  which  he  gives  accounts  of  "interviews"  be- 
tween himself  and  various  individuals,  —  Infidels,  fash- 
ionable ladies,  and  the  like.  Among  other  notables,  he 
encounters  a  brace  of  Mormon  Prophets,  his  account  of 
which  being  very  characteristic  of  our  subject,  I  quote, 
and  with  it  conclude  this  sketch. 


82  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  OR. 

One  hot  Sabbath,  just  as  services  were  about  to  com- 
mence, the  Doctor  was  accosted  by  a  couple  of  indi- 
viduals, who  addressed  him  as  "  Brother  Cox,  a  man  of 
God,  a  friend  of  truth,  a  lover  of  righteousness,  and  a 
preacher  of  the  Gospel."  They  wished  an  opportunity 
to  hold  some  conversation  with  him,  and  were  directed 
to  call  at  his  study  at  the  close  of  the  services.  At  the 
time  appointed  they  made  their  appearance,  and  an- 
nounced themselves  as  "  Latter  Day  Saints,"  sent  on  a 
special  mission  to  the  Doctor  to  announce  to  him  that  he 
was  to  be  converted  and  rise  to  great  eminence  among 
the  chosen  people.  The  Doctor,  very  naturally,  wanted 
something  in  the  shape  of  a  miracle  as  a  credential. 
These  they  professed  to  be  able  to  work,  and  to  have 
worked,  but  declined  repeating  the  performance  just 
then.  The  Doctor  suggested  that  at  least  they  might 
read  and  construe  a  verse  or  two  of  the  Greek  Testa- 
ment. This  met  with  no  more  favor  from  the  new 
Apostles,  who  began  to  mutter  something  about  "  an 
adulterous  generation  seeking  for  a  sign,"  and  to  im- 
press upon  him  the  necessity  of  faith.  Whereupon  the 
dialogue  took  a  somewhat  spicy  turn.  I  take  the  liberty 
of  condensing  it  somewhat,  but  preserve  the  main  points. 
It  will  be  borne  in  mind  that  figure  1  represents  the 
Doctor,  and  2  and  3  his  opponents :  — 

"  1.  I  shall  not  stir  another  step  in  this  business  till  I 
see  the  evidence  on  which  you  rely,  as  self-vaunted  en- 
voys extraordinary,  and  ministers  plenipotentiary  from 
the  court  of  the  King  of  kings,  to  sustain  your  apostol- 


TEN-PICTURES.  83 

icity  and  vindicate  your  claims.  Here  then,  I  take  my 
stand,  and  call  for  evidence,  —  for  proof.  How  am  I  to 
know,  gentlemen,  that  you  are  not  impostors  ? 

"  3.  You  had  better  take  care,  Sir,  what  you  say. 
The  evidence  may  come  sooner  than  you  desire,  and  as 
you  do  not  expect,  and  what  you  will  not  relish,  sure 
enough  !  I  would  just  warn  you  to  beware  ! 

"  1.  You  mean  that  the  evidence  may  surprise  me, 
coming  in  the  way  and  style  of  some  divine  judgment  ? 

"3.  Yes,  Sir,  I  do ;  and  I  hereby  warn  you  against 
it. 

"2.  Oh!  if  it  should  come  now,  what  would  be- 
come  

"  1.  Very  well,  gentlemen,  I  am  ready,  and  quite 
content.  Send  a  good  rousing  judgment  along  —  a  little 
touch  of  earthquake,  some  thunder  and  lightning,  cholera 
morbus,  palsy,  volcano,  avalanche,  nightmare,  gout,  ship 
fever,  neuralgia,  or  anything  else  you  please  ;  yes,  little 
or  much  of  it,  gentlemen,  and  the  sooner  the  better,  as 
I  am  ready,  if  you  are,  and  quite  disposed  to  be  accom- 
modating. 

"  3.  Sir,  are  you  forgetting  yourself  all  the  time  ? 

"  1.  Not  at  all ;  I  am  only  remembering  you.  Let  us 
have  some  of  the  evidence.  Come !  your  testimonials, 
your  seals,  your  signs,  gentlemen ! 

"  2.  Why,  I  never  saw  or  heard  such  a  man  as  you ! 

"  1.  Nor  I  ever  read  or  conceived  before  of  such  men 
or  such  apostles  —  exactly,  as  you  are. 

"  2.  I  fear  you  are  a  hardened  old 

"  3.  Yes,  and  blinded,  too,  with  darkness. 


84  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  OR, 

"1.  Why,  surely  there  seems  to  be  considerable 
darkness  in  niy  study  —  more  than  common  this  after- 
noon ;  arid  I  wish  there  was  more  air,  since  light  seems 
so  scarce  and  heat  so  oppressive  in  it. 

"  3.  Sir,  to  tell  you  plainly,  you  are  a  hardened  man 
and  a  hypocrite,  given  up,  reprobate. 

"  2.  Oh,  how  dark,  dark,  dark  you  are  ! 

"3.  Yes,  you  are  a  hypocrite,  a  liar,  Sir;  and  I 
know 

"  1.  Stay  just  a  moment.  Pray,  be  quite  calm.  I 
can  refute  all  that  instantly  on  the  authority  of  two 
apostles.  Instead  of  liar,  hypocrite,  reprobate,  I  am, 
you  remember,  "  Brother  Cox,  a  man  of  God,  a  friend 
of  truth,  a  lover  of.  righteousness,  and  a  preacher  of  the 
Gospel."  This  is  a  great  honor,  quite  a  high  and  memo- 
rable endorsement.  It  is,  at  least,  the  exalted  character 
I  had  a  few  hours  since.  If  I  have  it  not  yet,  but  have 
grown  so  bad  at  once,  as  you  now  denounce  me,  it  must 
be  because  I  have  been  sometime  in  your  company. 

"  2.  Sir,  I  have  no  respect  or  care  for  you. 

"  1.  Queer  apostles  these,  to  be  so  mistaken  in  their 
inspiration,  for  once ! 

"  3.  Yes,  Sir ;  hypocrite,  hardened • 

"  1.  Silence,  gentlemen.  You  are  now  going  rather 
too  far.  There  seems  no  immediate  prospect  of  my  be- 
coming a  latter-day  saint,  you  perceive.  It  is  the 

Lord's  day,  and  I  wish  not  to  break  it I  have  done ! 

You  need  make  no  reply.  Now,  I  have  only  two  more 
things  to  say ;  the  first,  this  is  my  study  ;  the  second, 
there  is  the  door ;  make  rectilinears  in  quick  time,  and 


PEN-PICTURES.  85 

leave  the  premises  immediately.  I  am  not  your  brother 
or  your  dupe. 

"  With  this,  I  rose  and  opened  the  door,  pointed  them 
out,  cleared  the  way  for  them,  and  have  never  heard 
from  them  since.  They  went  down  the  stairs  and  dis- 
appeared as  directed,  uttering  many  and  various  denun- 
ciations and  inspired  predictions,  for  which  God,  who 
hates  imposture  more  than  any  of  us,  will  call  them  to 
account,  when  their  true  character  shall  be  displayed  to 
the  universe." 

This  interview  reminds  me  of  one  which  occurred  be- 
tween the  Kev.  William  Jay,  to  whom  I  have  before  re- 
ferred, and  a  gentleman  who  toot  it  upon  him  to  con- 
vert the  venerable  Bath  minister  from  the  "  error  of  his 
ways." 

Some  years  since,  when  the  followers  of  Edward 
Irving  were  in  the  very  height  of  their  enthusiasm  —  or 
rather,  madness  ; —  a  church  was  formed  at  Bristol,  and 
great  exertions  were  made  by  its  members  to  convert  to 
the  "  true  faith"  the  ministers  of  that  and  some  neigh- 
boring cities  and  towns.  So  popular  and  influential  a 
man  as  William  Jay  could  not  be  overlooked  by  them, 
and  measures  were  accordingly  taken  to  insure  his  coali- 
tion with  the  new  lights. 

To  promote  this  desirable  end,  one  Mr.  Curtis,  a  good, 
easy  but  weak  man,  who  had  been  ordained  one  of  the 
"Angels"  of  the  Bristol  Irvingite  church,  proceeded  to 
Bath,  and  called  on  the  celebrated  minister,  who  court- 
eously received  him,  and  inquired  respecting  his  busi- 
ness. Mr.  Curtis  informed  him,  in  reply,  that  he  was 
8 


86  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  OR, 

Angel  from  the  Irvingite  church  at  Bristol,  and  that  his 
"  mission  "  was  to  induce  Mr.  Jay  to  join  them  and  be 
saved. 

"  An  Angel  —  eh  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Jay  in  astonishment, 
for  it  is  not  likely  that  he  thought,  like  one  of  old,  he 
should  entertain  a  visitant  from  the  skies. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Curtis,  "  an  angel.  Sir  ;  an  angel  in 
deed  and  in  truth." 

Mr.  Jay  did  not  smile  visibly,  but  gravely  requested 
Mr.  Curtis  to  take  off  his  coa't,  which  the  gentleman, 
after  some  hesitation,  did.  Divested  of  this  outer  gar- 
ment, Mr.  Curtis  felt  Mr.  Jay's  hands  busy  about  his 
shoulder  blades  —  "Pray,  what  are  you  doing,  Sir?" 
he  at  last  asked. 

"  Feeling  for  your  wings,"  was  the  reply  ;  at  which 
the  angel  grew  so  wroth,  that,  hurrying  on  his  coat,  he 
darted  down  stairs  and  quitted  the  house,  in  order  to  re- 
turn and  narrate  the  want  of  faith  in  Mr.  Jay,  to  his 
redulous  brethren  and  sisters  at  Bristol. 

Since  writing  the  above  sketch  the  following  "  hit "  at 
Dr.  Cox  met  my  eye  in  a  New  York  paper : — 

MUCH  ADO  ABOUT  NOTHING.  It  is  the  "  cue  "  of 
some  folks  to  be  elaborate  and  verbose  in  small  matters, 
and  so  it  is  with  our  Christian  brother,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Cox, 
of  Brooklyn.  Ask  him  to  dinner,  and  he  will  answer 
you  with  an  epic.  Solicit  his  presence  on  any  public 
occasion,  and  he  will  overwhelm  you  with  Latin,  Greek, 
and  English  with  the  syntax  inverted,  mixed  up  together 
in  inextricable  confusion.  There  is  one  characteristic  of 
the  doctor's  style  which  sticks  out  in  all  the  efforts  of  his 


PEN-PICTURES.  87 

pen.  We  mean  his  egotism.  This  characteristic  is  par- 
ticularly conspicuous  in  his  published  answer  to  a  private 
card  from  the  directors  of  the  Crystal  Palace  Associa- 
tion, inviting  him  to  be  present  at  the  inaugural  cere- 
monies. 

Most  people  would  have  replied  to  the  invitation  in  six 
lines  ;  but  the  Reverend  Samuel  Hanson  Cox,  D.  D.3  occu- 
pies nearly  half  a  column  in  declining,  gracing  his  missive 
with  five  lines  from  Virgil,  or,  what  the  reverend  gentle- 
man calls  him, "  the  Mantuan  bard,"  and  enlivening  it  with 
his  own  amplification  of  the  same,  in  the  vulgar  tongue, 
extending  to  the  length  of  twenty  lines.  Having  deliv- 
ered himself  of  this  paraphrase,  which  does  more  credit 
to  his  piety  than  his  poetic  talent,  he  winds  up  with  the 
following  mixture  of  compliments  and  prayers,  which  is 
well  enough  in  its  way,  but  sounds  odd  as  a  response  to 
a  common-place  note  of  invitation  : 

"Please,  sir,  Appreciate  this  votive  venture;  truly 
neither  premeditated,  nor  transcribed ;  and  expanding 
as  my  feelings  move  the  pen  that  wrote  it ;  and  yet,  though 
long,  I  feel  it  right  to  mention  that  mine  is  the  greatest 
loss,  that,  on  such  an  occasion  of  signal  occurrence,  I 
may  not  enjoy  with  you,  and  welcome  to  this  London  of 
our  country,  our  nation's  honored  chief  and  head,  with 
his  faithful  counsellors  around  him,  gracing  the  scene, 
and  representing  our  vast  republic,  in  relations  so  worthy 
of  statesmanship,  so  dear  to  patriotism,  so  Excellent  in 
history,  so  properly  consonant  with  the  influence  and  the 
sanction  of  religion !  God  bless  Franklin  Pierce,  the 
President  of  the  United  States  of  America  —  bless  his 


88  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:    OR, 

administration  —  bless  our  country  —  bless  the  nations 
of  the  earth  —  bless  you  all,  now,  henceforth,  and  for- 
ever, for  the  sake  of  our  Redeemer,  and  our  Lord,  Jesus 
Christ ! " 

Dr.  Cox  is,  no  doubt,  a  man  of  enormous  mental  force, 
but  he  wastes  his  intellectual  ammunition  on  small  affairs. 
He  is  great,  in  fact  immense,  in  small  things.  Set  him 
on  a  paper  of  tobacco,  a  long  nine,  or  a  spittoon,  and  he 
will  fire  one  of  his  Paixhan  guns  of  eloquence  into  it, 
knocking  it  on  the  instant  into  smithereens. 

Probably  the  doctor  is  a  good  man  —  in  fact,  we  have 
no  doubt  of  it ;  but  we  are  quite  sure,  although  we  have 
never  manipulated  his  head,  that  the  self-approbatory 
organs  are  protuberant.  We  should  say  that  his  love  of 
approbation  is  at  least  7,  by  Fowler's  scale,  and  his  self- 
esteem  ditto.  His  organ  of  reverence  may  be  about  the 
same  —  or  it  may  not.  As  a  preacher,  we  do  not  par- 
ticularly admire  either  his  matter  or  his  manner.  He  is, 
however,  a  man  of  talent  and  learning,  and,  as  we  have 
already  intimated,  "  really  conscientious." 


PEN-PICTURES.  89 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

EOWE  STREET  CHURCH.  A  CHURCH  AMONG  THE  MOUN- 
TAINS. HYMN  BOOKS  AND  HYMNOLOGY.  AN  EFFECTIVE 
CHOIR.  DR.  BARON  STOW.  HIS  PERSONAL  APPEARANCE. 
STYLE  OF  PREACHING.  THE  ORATOR  AND  THE  TEACHER. 

ON  turning  from  Essex  into  Howe  street,  that  quiet 
and  pretty  city  nook,  at  whose  northern  extremity  we 
almost  seem  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  green  country 
amidst  the  otherwise  "  endless  meal  of  brick,"  the  wan- 
derer will  perceive  two  prominent  objects  —  a  church 
turret  and  a  church  spire.  The  former  is  old  fashioned, 
destitute  of  architectural  beauty,  and  by  no  means  pic- 
turesque. The  latter  soars  upward  in  all  its  gothic  glory 
from  a  fitting  temple  for  worship,  and  is  an  ornament  to 
that  portion  of  the  city  in  which  it  is  situated.  It  is  to 
this  dark  red  sandstone  structure  that  I  am  this  morning 
bound ;  but  as  full  half  an  hour  must  elapse  before  the 
summoning  bell  will  swing  forth  its  welcome,  I  saunter 
through  the  adjacent  streets  arm  in  arm  with  an  old 
church-goer,  like  myself,  who,  however,  possesses  a  great 
advantage  over  me  in  his  long  and  intimate  acquaintance 
with  the  Boston  pulpit.  „ 

I  referred,  it  will  be  remembered,  in  my  last  sketch, 
to  church  architecture  in  general.  I  am  not  now  going 
8* 


90  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  OR, 

again  into  that  subject,  but  I  cannot  help  alluding  to  the 
exterior  of  this  Howe  street  church,  for  it  is  well  worthy 
of  a  passing  remark.  The  edifice  is,  despite  some  archi- 
tectural anachronisms  scarcely  worth  pointing  out,  ex- 
tremely beautiful.  High  above  its  roof  soars  a  gracefully 
proportioned  spire,  which  is  terminated  by  an  ornamental 
carving.  This  is  well.  I  am  no  liker  of  the  monstrous 
and  deformed  effigies  that  we  see  occasionally  displaying 
their  golden  surfaces  in  mid  air.  Now  a  cross  appears 
to  me  to  be  the  most  appropriate  symbol  which  can  sur- 
mount a  religious  edifice  ;  and  though  some  good  people 
object  to  the  use^  of  this  emblem,  on  account  of  its  having 
been  so  extensively  exhibited  by  Roman  Catholics,  I 
cannot,  for  my  own  part,  see  any  reason  for  its  rejection. 
I  fancy  there  is  more  prejudice  than  piety  in  the  objec- 
tions to  its  more  general  adoption. 

But,  perhaps,  the  earliest  known  addition  to  the  sum- 
mit of  a  church  spire  was,  aftejr  all,  the  best.  Some 
years  since  as  I  was  travelling  in  Wales,  after  a  long  and 
wearisome  walk  over  a  bleak  and  forlorn  moor,  upon 
which  loomed  up  here  and  there  Druidical  remains  of 
Cairn  or  Cromlech,  gaunt  and  grey  in  the  twilight,  I 
came  suddenly  upon  one  of  those  little  mountain  chui-cii- 
es,  surrounded  by  its  lonely  burial  ground,  which  at  long 
intervals  give  the  only  indications  of  man's  existence  in 
those  remote  districts.  It  was  an  ancient  time  and 
storm-battered  building,  whose  spire  now  stood  out  in 
bold  relief;  for,  on  the  horizon's  verge,  stretched  far 
away  to  the  right  and  left,  an  opening  beneath  the  cur- 
tain of  cloud,  that,  dun  and  rapidly  deepening  into 


PEN-PICTURES.  91 

gloom,  though  its  lower  edge  was  yet  tinged  with  lurid 
hues  from  the  to  me  unseen  sun,  was  rapidly  descending  to 
conceal  from  mortal  sight  that  radiant  "vista  into 
Heaven." 

As  with  an  eye  for  the  picturesque,  —  and,  in  such  situ- 
ations, dull  must  he  be  who  does  not  possess  it,  —  I  drank 
in  the  scene  whilst  resting  on  a  huge  boulder.   I  noticed, 
that  distinct  and  sharp  against  the  luminous  sky  I  have 
spoken  of,  and  on  the  very  summit  of  the  old  church 
spire  was,  greatly  magnified  by  the  deceptive  light,  a 
gigantic  human  hand,  with  the  fore  finger  extended  and 
pointing  upward.     At  first  I  supposed  it  to  be  an  optical 
illusion ;  but  the  shifting  hues  caught  from  the  western 
sky,  and  a  nearer  approach  to  the  object  itself,  showed 
me  that  a  hand  carved  in  stone  surmounted  the  building. 
And   afterwards  in   conversation   with  a   distinguished 
Welsh  antiquary,   Dr.,  Downes,  —  one  of  Blackwood's 
corps  of  contributors  imots  best  days,  and  as  Christopher 
North  in  reviewing  his  ^Mountain  Decameron"  termed 
him,  the  "  Salvator  Rosa  of  prose  writers," — I  heard 
that  such  a  terminal,  or,  more  correctly  speaking, "  finial," 
to  a  spire,  was  by  no  means  uncommon  u^^ie  land  of 
Saint  David.     Now  what  could  be  more  su^estive  than 
this  device  of  a  finger  pointing  heavenward  ?     As  I  that 
evening  gazed  thereon,  I   fancied  that  no  more  pow- 
erful sermon  was  ever  preached  in  the  pulpit  below,  than 
by  that  lofty  stone  finger.     There  it  had  stood  for  centu- 
ries, and  there  it  may  remain  during  centuries  to  come, 
a  silent  director  to  the  "  things  that  are  unseen  and  eter- 
nal."    As  I  passed  the  building  itself  I  climbed  over  the 


92  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  OR, 

"  hatch,"  the  only  barrier  to  an  entrance  into  that  un- 
frequented temple,  and  stood  beneath  the  ancient  roof, 

And  in  truth  it  was  a  solemn  sight 

To  see  that  church  in  the  dim  twilight 

With  its  pulpit,  and  never  a  parson  there  ; 

Its  clerk's  desk  with  no  one  to  mutter  a  prayer. 

Its  silent  bell,  and  no  girls  nor  boys 

To  lustily  sing  with  heart  and  voice  ; 

Its  empty  pews ;  its  musty  books  ; 

And  its  carved  men  in  stonen  nooks ! 

All  looked  shadowy,  gaunt  and  odd, 

In  that  hushed  and  desolate  house  of  God  ! 

Such  or  something  like  them  were  the  lines  which  I 
scrawled  under  a  hastily-taken  drawing  of  the  interior 
of  the  old  Welsh  church.  But  back  from  the  mountains 
must  I  come,  and  the  voice  of  my  companion  at  once  dis- 
pels the  dream. 

We  had  been  talking  about  tl^  preachers  of  the  day, 
and  in  reply  to  some  remarks  of  mine  my  friend  said :  — 

"  Upon  the  whole,  the  pulpit  in  our  day  does  not  deal 
with  deep  convictions  —  it  is  not  an  age  of  deep  convic- 
tions ;  yet  jd^never  a  man  such  as  Baron  Stow,  whom  we 
are  about  ^Wiear,  with  deep  convictions  speaks,  he  is 
listened  to  earnestly.  No  matter  what  a  preacher's  con- 
victions may  be,  indeed,  if  it  can  be  felt  that  he  has 
them,  and  that  he  does  not  sham  the  having  them,  men 
will  attend  to  him." 

"  I  almost  fancy,"  said  I,  "  from  what  I  have  observed, 
that  the  convictions  of  the  skeptic  are  stronger  than  the 
convictions  of  the  Christian.  Such  men  as  Newman  and 


PEN-PICTURES.  93 

Froude,  and  one  whom  I  might  mention  nearer  home, 
are  potent " 

"  Aye  —  aye,"  interrupted  my  companion,  "  they,  too, 
are  the  sons  of  faith ;  but  what  a  cheerless,  cold,  moon- 
light faith  it  is !  Now  the  books  of  one  of  the  men  you 
allude  to  are  circulating  largely,  are  received  by  all  the 
young,  thinking,  purely-affectioned  spirits  of  America, 
and  with  few  exceptions  the  pulpit  does  not  supply,  what 
every  pulpit  ought  to  supply,  a  Catholicon  for  the  "leper- 
ous  distilment."  There  is  no  salvation  from  skepticism, 
so  long  as  preachers  tell  their  auditors  to  believe  only 
what  can  be  comprehended  by  the  sense,  and  yet  nearly 
all  our  modern  books  of  Christian '  guidance  are  based 
upon  such  appeals." 

By  this  time  we  had  reached  the  church  door,  and  our 
conversation  was  cut  short,  for  which,  perhaps,  the  reader 
may  not  be  sorry. 

The  interior  of  Howe  street  church  is  exceedingly 
beautiful,  and  to  my  mind  just  what  a  church  interior 
should  be.  The  style  is  gothic,  and  the  warm,  rich  brown 
tint  of  the  walls,  blended  with  the  dark  walnut  wood  of 
the  pews,  pulpit  and  gallery  fronts,  produces  a  charming 
effect.  The  windows  are  adorned  with  stained  glass: 
and  for  once  the  colors  are  not  too  glaring  —  only  suffi- 
ciently brilliant  to  temper  the  sober  radiance  within,  with 
occasional  gem-like  hues  on  cushion  and  carpet.  The 
pulpit,  with  its  pure  gothic  screen-work  at  its  back,  its 
adornments  of  arch,  pillar,  lozenge  and  quatrefoil,  is  quite 
in  character  with  the  rost  of  the  edifice  ;  and  the  groined 
roof  surmounting  the  clere-story  windows,  harmoniously 


* 


94  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  OR, 

cover  and  combine  all.  The  organ  had  been  erected  on 
a  modern  principle,  in  consequence  of  which  the  space 
usually  allotted  to  it  in  the  gallery  was  saved,  but  I  con- 
fess I  missed  the  gilded  pipes,  which  seem  to  give  char- 
acter to  a  church.  However,  room  is  of  more  consequence 
than  mere  appearance,  and  so  I  suppose  the  judicious 
builders  considered. 

Scarcely  had  I  entered  the  church,  when  a  gentleman, 
observing  that  I  was  a  stranger,  very  courteously  and 
promptly  showed  me  to  a  seat.  Now  such  little  attentions 
as  these  can  only  be  properly  appreciated  by  those  who, 
like  myself,  are  far  from  home.  One  does  not  always 
f^ceive  them  though,  and  therefore  I  now  gratefully  re- 
cord the  attentions  which  I  have  on  more  than  one 
occasion  received  at  Rowe  street  church.  I  have  heard 
toll  of  a  certain  newly-married  husband,  who,  whilst 
inaMng  his  morning  toilet,  exclaimed,  as  he  gazed  toward 
the  just  reddening  east:  —  "The  glory  of  the  world  is 
rising ! "  His  better  half,  imagining  that  she  was  the 
object  alluded  to,  chimed  pleasantly  in  with  —  Ah,  my 
dear !  but  what  would  you  say  if  I  had  my  new  shot  silk 
dress  on  ?  "  And  so,  although  as  a  mere  dropper  in  to 
Mr.  Stow's  church,  I  was  most  politely  accommodated  in 
a  comfortable  pew,  how  much  more  might  I  have  been 
honored,  had  my  conductor  to  the  said  pew  known  that 
he  was  escorting  THE  CHURCH-GOER  !  Luckily  for  my 
modesty,  the  claret-colored  old  fashioned  coat  and  spec- 
tacles escaped  his  observation. 

Taking  up  a  hymn-book  which  lay  beside  me,  I  turned 
to  its  title  page  and  discovered  the  name  of  Baron  Stow 


PEN-PICTURES.  95 

as  one  of  its  compilers.  Now  in  the  matter  of  hymn- 
books,  I  am  rather  curious,  and  it  may  be  critical.  More 
than  this,  I  always  look  at  a  new  (to  me)  collection  of 
sacred  lyrics  with  suspicious  eyes,  for  so  often  have  I 
met  in  such  with  mutilated  versions  of  fine  hymns  ;  altep- 
ations  to  suit  the  tastes  or  the  doctrines  of  particular 
sects,  that  I  have  more  than  once  flung  them  aside  with 
anything  but  a  complimentary  criticism.  And  it  appears 
to  me  one  of  the  most  shameful  and  unjustifiable  things 
in  the  world  to  take  a  hymn  of  Watts,  for  example,  and 
so  twist  and  torture  it  that  its  author  would  never  have 
recognized  it,  to  fit  some  sectarian  crotchet  or  other,  al- 
though such  author's  name  be  appended  to  it.  In  ninetyr 
nine  cases  out  of  one  hundred,  too,  the  alterations  prove 
to  be  spoliations,  —  the  bunglers  mar  what  they  vainly 
attempt  to  mend.  Why,  I  have  actually  seen  that  fine 
hymn  of  Watts's,  "  There  is  a  land  of  pure  delight," 
completely  burked  by  additions  and  leavings  out.  In 
fact,  these  metre-mongers  ought  to  be  severely  punished, 
for  I  hold  that  a  compiler  has  as  much  right  to  walk  into 
my  parlor  and  alter  the  hanging  of  my  pictures,  as  to 
take  reflections  of  my  mind  on  paper  and  distort  them  to 
suit  his  purposes.  There  are,  I  grant,  instances  in  which 
verbal  alterations  may  be  made  for  the  sake  of  rhythm, 
or  obsolete  words  may  be  advantageously  expunged^  but 
the  sense  should  never  be  interfered  with,  and  the  patch- 
work process  ought  to  be  altogether  abolished. 

So  I  read  through  the  preface  to  "  The  Psalmist," 
(the  name  of  the  collection  of  hymns  used  at  Howe 
street  church,  and  I  believe  by  the  Baptists  generally 


96  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  OR, 

throughout  America)  and  since  then  I  have  carefully  look- 
ed over  its  pages.  Of  course  either  commendation  or 
censure  from  my  pen  respecting  it  would  but  little  avail ; 
but  I  cannot  avoid  saying  that  u  The  Psalmist "  is,  with- 
out exception,  one  of  the  best  collections  of  hymns  that  it 
was  ever  my  fortune  to  fall  in  with.  From  the  title  page 
to  the  last  leaf,  although  there  were  some  alterations, 
there  were  none  that  were  not  judicious,  and  in  most 
cases  they  were  amendments.  It  was  evident  enough 
that  poetic  minds,  as  well  as  pious  hearts,  had  had  to  do 
with  that  selection.  Indeed,  no  good  hymn  book  could 
be  produced  unless  by  such  a  happy  combination  of  re- 
ligion and  taste.  Alas !  that  the  two  should  so  often 
be  separated  !  There  are  only  one  or  two  other  hymn 
books  which  are  fit  to  be  named  in  the  same  category  as 
the  one  of  Messrs.  Baron  Stow  and  S.  F.  Smith's,  and 
that  is  the  collection  made  by  the  Rev.  John  Liefchild, 
of  Craven  Chapel,  London.  These  hymns  are  all  orig- 
inal, and  were  contributed  by  various  pens,  for  the  use 
of  that  particular  chapel,  but  are  little,  if  at  all,  known 
in  this  country.  I  should,  however,  recommend  any 
future  editor  of  a  hymn  book  to  purchase  a  copy  of  it. 
Among  the  contributors  to  it,  are  James  Montgomery, 
Joseph  Cottle,  Josiah  Conder,  and  others. 

One  of  these  original  hymns  from  the  pen  of  the  Rev. 
Edward  White  of  Hereford,  I  am  tempted  to  quote,  be- 
cause of  its  exceeding  beauty.  It  is  entitled 

"WITHIN  THE  VEIL. 
'Tis  but  a  veil  that  hangs  between 
The  saint,  and  joys  divine ; 


PEN-PICTURES.  97 

And  beams  of  mercy  oft  are  seen 
Amidst  its  folds  to  shine. 

When  fainting  pilgrims  weep  no  more, 

But  'mid  their  woes  rejoice, 
'Tis  light  from  Heaven  has  saved  the  poor, 

And  raised  the  grateful  voice. 

When  flames  around  the  martyr's  brow 

Forbid  his  faith  to  fail, 
The  beams  that  on  his  features  glow 

Come  from  '  Within  the  Veil ; ' 

And  hourly  doth  that  veil  unfold 

Some  waiting  saint  to  bless, 
Whom  Jesus  summons  to  behold 

His  face  in  righteousness  ! 

The  angels  bear  them,  one  by  one, 

To  join  the  ransomed  throng 
Who,  round  about  the  Eternal  Throne, 

Awake  the  Conqueror's  song ! 

Their  harps  of  gold  we  hear  not  now, 

But  soon  the  day  will  rise, 
When  veiled  no  more,  we  all  shall  know 

The  glories  of  the  skies  ! " 

What  an  interesting  article  a  good  chapter  on  hymn- 
ology  would  be,  if  written  by  one  who  was  well  posted 
up  on  the  subject.  I  wonder  that  some  one  has  not  taken 
up  'the  pen  on  this  hitherto  neglected  topic.  What  know 
we  of  the  poor,  obscure  Baptist  minister  in  England, 
who  wrote  the  most  magnificent  hymn  that  any  one,  not 
9 


98  TULPIT  PORTRAITS  :    OR, 

an  inspired  writer,  ever  penned  ?     I  refer  to  the  hymn 
or  ode  commencing  with 

"  The  God  of  Abraham  praise, 

Who  reigns  enthroned  above  ! 
Ancient  of  everlasting  days, 
And  God  of  love  !  " 

Strange  to  say,  the  author  of  the  hymn  never  wrote  but 
one  —  this  one.  Like  the  celebrated  member  of  Parlia- 
ment, who  opened  his  mouth  in  Saint  Stephen's  but 
once,  and  so  earned  the  title  of  "  single -speech  Hamil- 
ton ; "  the  poor  Baptist  preacher  having  made  but  one 
utterance,  might  lay  claim  to  a  similar  soubriquet.  What 
interesting  histories  may  be  connected  with  Watts's  com- 
positions, or  Wesley's,  or  Doddridge's,  and  it  would  be 
curious  to  collate  the  several  editions  of  them  from  the 
earliest  downwards,  and  note  the  changes  which  have 
been  made.  Then  the  histories  of  some  particular 
hymns  —  the  feelings  they  have  created  —  the  consola- 
tions they  have  afforded  —  the  triumphs  they  have 
achieved ;  the  circumstances,  too,  under  which  they 
were  composed ;  all  these  and  other  facts  connected 
with  hymn  history  would  be  deeply  interesting,  aye,  and 
novel  too,  which  is  saying  a  great  deal  in  these  days. 
Let  some  young,  half  employed  minister  or  student  look 
to  it,  and  thank  us  for  a  hint  which  carried  into  practice 
may  gratify  the  Christian  public,  and  put  some  dollars  in 
his  pocket. 

But  all  this  while  I  am  travelling  somewhat  out  of  the 
record,  as  the  Legists  say. 


PEN-PICTURES.  99 

The  minister  rises  and  utters  a  brief  prayer,  after 
which  he  reads  the  hymn,  "  Another  six  days'  work  is 
done,"  with  much  feeling.  His  voice  is  deep,  solemn 
and  well  modulated.  Evidently  he  feels  what  he  ex- 
presses in  words ;  and  the  author  of  that  hymn,  could  he 
hear  it  so  recited,  would  be  satisfied  with  the  utterance 
given  to  his  ideas.  This  is,  after  all,  the  triumph  of 
hymn  reading.  And  nowT,  the  verses  having  all  been 
read,  the  unseen  organ  peals  forth  its  low  diapason. 

The  short,  sweet  prelude  concluded,  the  choir  sends 
forth  a  strain  of  subdued  melody.  Ah !  they  have 
caught  what  choirs  so  seldom  catch — the  spirit  of  the 
strain  which  is  syllabled  by  their  lips  and  tongues.  Soft- 
ly, and  with  an  emotion  of  joyful  repose,  is  told  the  ces- 
sation of  the  week's  toil ;  and  the  announcement  of  the 
dawn  of  "  another  Sabbath,"  is  made  in  jubilant  though 
gentle  tones.  Now,  amidst  floating  harmonies  that 
steal  along  roof  and  aisle,  is  the  soul  invoked  to  arise 
and  enjoy  the  day  its  God  has  blessed ;  and  then  a  vis- 
ion of  the  Sabbath  of  the  skies  seems  dimly  to  appear 
beyond  the  boundary  and  verge  of  this  we  are  now 
spending  in  his  courts  below ;  of  that  new  and  better 
day,  whose  dawn  no  clouds  shall  overshadow,  which  shall 
ever  be  growing  brighter  and  fairer  as  it  approaches  per- 
petual noon,  and  whose  sun  shall  set  no  more  !  Treason. 
against  taste  it  may  be,  but  I  am  sincere  when  I  say 
that  I  would  rather  hear  that  hymn  sung  as  I  that  morn- 
ing heard  it,  ly  the  Rowe  street  chapel  choir,  than  listen 
to  the  corabinid  harmonies  of  all  the  great  opera  singers 
in  existence.  And  with  all  this  beautiful  execution, 


100  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  OR, 

there  was  no  musical  affectation,  —  none  of  the  poly- 
trasheries  of  "shake,"  or  "trill,"  or  quaver;"  all  was 
simple  and  pure.  The  organ  was  remarkably  well 
played ;  the  soul  seemed  to  tremble  with  the  trembling 
key,  as  the  melodious  murmurs  swept  along,  and  the 
voice  and^the  instrument  became  as  one  in  the  act  of 
harmonious  adoration  and  praise.  The  leader  of  this 
fine  choir  is,  I  believe,  Mr.  Gould,  a  member  of  one  of 
our  Boston  publishing  houses. 

Let  us  now  glance  at  the  preacher,  from  whom,  I  fear, 
my  attention  has  too  long  wandered. 

And  first  in  regard  of  personal  appearance.  Having 
more  faith  in  Lavater's  doctrines  than  in  those  of  Spurz- 
heim,  —  in  other  words,  believing  that  the  face  is  a  bet- 
ter indication  of  a  man's  mind  than  the  outside  of  his 
cranium  can  be,  I  regarded  Dr.  Stow  rather  physiogno- 
mically  than  with  any  reference  to  his  cerebral  or  cere- 
bellic  developments.  His  face,  then,  greatly  prepos- 
sessed me  in  his  favor,  a  rather  uncommon  circumstance 
with  me,  for  I  am  by  no  means  apt  to  fall  in  love  with 
anything  at  first  sight.  It  may  be  owing  to  some  twist 
in  my  mental  organization,  but  I  am  rather  apt  to  look 
for  faults  than  for  excellencies  in  all  new  acquaintances. 
However,  in  the  case  of  Dr.  Stow  I  was  much  impressed 
with  the  grave  solemnity  [gravity  and  solemnity  without 
a  tinge  of  gloom]  of  his  countenance.  He  looked  as 
one  conscious  of  the  importance  of  his  office  —  of  the 
awful  responsibility  of  the  position  he  occupied  as  a  "  le- 
gate of  the  skies."  Of  middle  age,  or  but  little  beyond 
it,  his  face  and  figure  were  fully  developed.  Dark,  scan- 


PEN-PICTURES.  101 

*  %. 

ty  hair  covered  his  head,  and  was  combed  partially  over 
a  broad,  white  forehead.  The  nose  was  prominent  and 
slightly  aquiline,  —  the  mouth  expressive  of  decision  and 
energy.  As  I  have  before  said,  his  voice  was  deep  and 
melodious,  varied,  however,  in  its  modulat^},  by  the 
topics  on  which  he  dwelt ;  now  melting  IflBra  pathos, 
now  arousing  by  its  earnestness,  and  anon  attracting  at- 
tention by  its  pleading  cadences.  You  could  not  look  at 
Baron  Stow's  face  without  feeling  persuaded  that  it  was 
the  index  of  a  holy  and  devoted  mind.  It  attracted  you 
towards  it  by  the  very  force  of  gentleness.  Mildness 
and  benevolence  were  trace^on  it  as  on  an  open  book, 
and  looking  on  it  we  could^lalize  Towper's  exquisite 
description  of  the  faithful  minister^piich  will  occur  to 
every  reader's  mind.  So  much  for  personal  appearance. 
Now  for  an  attempt,  feeble  though  it  must  necessarily  be, 
to  delineate  his  mental  aspect. 

The  person  who  visits  Rowe  street  church  in  the  ex- 
pectation that  he  may  be  gratified  by  listening  to  remark- 
able flights  of  oratory,  will  be  almost  certainly  disap- 
pointed. Great  plainness  of  speech,  depth  of  thought, 
simplicity  of  diction,  scriptural  language  and  affectionate 
appeals,  are  the  staple  of  Dr.  Stow's  sermons ;  but  you 
will  look  in  vain  for  rhetoric  flash,  metaphysical  subtleties, 
brilliant  metaphors,  or  affluence  of  imagery.  His  ser- 
mons are  distinguished  for  the  great  naturalness  of  their 
divisions.  The  texts,  as  it  were,  divide  themselves  of 
their  own  accord.  For  instance,  a  friend  informs  us  that 
when  he  preached  from  the  text "  And  the  door  was 
shut,"  he  remarked  that  there  were  two  classes  implied 
9* 


102  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  OR, 

:** 

by  the  shutting  of  that  door  —  they  who  were  shut  in, 
and  those  who  were  shut  out.  This  reminds  us  of  a  ser- 
mon we  once  heard  preached  by  a  Welsh  minister  from 
the  text  "  Why  will  ye  die  ?  "  In  that  case  the  minis- 
ter, by  ermDhasizing  in  turn  each  separate  word,  made 
four  diviSHf :  Why  will  ye  die  ?  —  why  will  ye  die  ?  — 
why  will  ye  die  ?  and  why  will  ye  die  ?  A  "minute  analy- 
sis also  characterizes  his  discourses,  and  the  very  basis 
of  all  of  them  is  fervent  piety.  Of  pathos  he  is  a  mas- 
ter, and  with  a  gfertle  hand  does  he  often  unseal  the 
fountains  of  tears.  'Perhaps  no  man's  sympathies  are 
more  universal,  and  hence^n  hours  of  trial,  or 

"  When^nguor  and  disease  invade 

This^Kmbling  house  of  clay," 

/ 

his  ministrations  are  peculiarly  acceptable.  The  funeral 
sermons  of  no  other  ministei^whom  we  can  call  to  mem- 
ory are  so  impressive  as  Baron  Stow's ;  take  those  which 
he  recently  delivered  on  the  deaths  of  the  late  Rev.  N. 
W.  Williams  and  Dr.  Sharp,  as  specimens.  Without 
divesting  death  of  its  solemnity,  he  so  addresses  himself 
to  the  living  as  to  gild  the  gloom  of  the  grave.  For  pub- 
lic, and  we  hear  for  private  benevolence  he  is  remarkable, 
and  few  men  in  the  ministerial  ranks  are  so  universally 
esteemed,  both  among  his  clerical  brethren  and  by  the 
church  generally. 

One  remarkable  feature  in  Dr.  Stow's  ministrations  is 
the  charm  by  which  he  attracts  so  many  young  per- 
sons. We  noticed  a  greater  proportion  of  young  men  at 
Howe  street  church  than  we  have  seen  at  any  other. 


PEN-PICTURES.  103 


-. 

That  must  be  indeed  a  fine-'  and  amiable  mind  which  can 
so  enlist  the  generous  sympathies  and  ardent  impulses  of 
youth.  As  a  pastor,  he  stands  high,  and  though  I  am 
far  from  estimating  a  minister's  usefulness  by  a  dollar 
and  cent  standard,  yet  it  is  some  credit  to  h^^iat,  ow- 
ing partly  to  his  endeavors,  his  church  has'  Jeen  freed 
from  debt.  The  congregation  is  remarkable  for  intelli- 
gence, piety  and  usefulness,  and  the  Sabbath  school  is  in 
a  highly  flourishing  condition. 

I  have  intimated  that  Dr.  Stow  is  rather  a  Teacher 
than  an  Orator  ;  indeed  the  two  are  very  rarely  combin- 
ed. Why  T^t  ?  The  orator  knows  his  power,  and  so 
long  as  he  can  J^ind  his  auditors  by  the  spell  of  his  speech, 
of  his  imagery,  of  his  action,  he  di^gards  the  remain- 
der. The  teacher*lnows  that  hHias  solid  and  substan- 
tial worth  to  commudB>te  ;  he  scorns  the  artificial  ;  has 
in  utter  disregard  all  manner,  and  thinks  only  of  his  ideas, 
and  likes  them  best  in  unadorned  vestments.  Ever,  of 
course,  the  teacher  merits  most  of  our  regard.  The 
orator,  perhaps,  in  the  highest  sense,  few  men  can  be  ; 
but  every  man  inducted  into  the  office  of  the  ministry, 
ought  to  be  a  teacher,  or  he  has  no  business  in  that  office. 

I  have  grown  suspicious  of  orators,  especially  since  I 
long  ago  found  that  the  most  frivolous  of  them  secured 
the  most  extensive  and  profound  attention.  The  orator 
should  be  great  in  virtue  of  the  continued  attitude  of  the 
soul  ;  he  should  not  mount  a  pair  of  stilts  to  excite  the 
wonder  of  the  vulgar.  I  confess  I  have  never  been  able 
to  see  why  there  should  be  an  elaboration  of  manner  and 
matter  for  the  pulpit  or  platform  which  would  be  scorned 


OF  THR 


104  PULPIT   PORTRAITS  :    OR 

| 

in  the  parlor  or  drawing-room.  What  we  want  is  honest 
rhetoric,  manliness  of  speech,  plainness,  and  a  determi- 
nation to  make  the  thought  in  hand  known  and  felt ;  to 
put  it  in  its  largest  and  lowest  relations  ;  to  set  it  in  the 
frame  w|^pf  a  most  simple  diction.  The  secret  of  all 
oratory  ^fee  genuine  sense  will  be  to  be  alive  to  the 
subject  ana  dead  to  self,  and  this  is  possible.  When 
these  requisites  blend  in  the  speaker,  it  is  needless  to  say 
the  orator  and  the  teacher  are  one. 

The  latter  Dr.  Baron  Stow  most  assuredly  is,  and  there 
are  times  when  he  most  happily  adds  to  it  the  attributes 
of  the  former. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

SUNDAY  IN  NEW  YORK.  TRINITY  CHURCH  YARD.  EARLY 
CHURCH  IMPRESSIONS.  DR.  MAGOON'S  CHURCH.  WHIST- 
LING A  PSALM-TUNE.  SKETCH  OF  REV.  E.  L.  MAGOON. 
HIS  STYLE. 

THERE  are  few  things  so  disagreeable  to  me,  as  being 
in  a  strange  city  on  the  Sabbath.  On  other  days  the 
business  and  bustle  of  the  thoroughfares,  the  attractive 
shop  windows,  the  kaleidoscopic  changes  of  the  costume 
of  the  passers-by,  and  other  novel  objects  which  greet 


PEN-PICTURES.  105 

one  at  every  turn,  greatly  relieve  the  sense  of  utter 
loneliness.  But  on  Sundays  the  case  is  widely  different. 
Spite  of  yourself  you  are  flung  upon  the  worst  kind  of 
solitude,  the  solitude  of  the  streets.  Far  from  his  own 
kith  and  kin,  the  family  man,  in  a  foreign  land,  sees  with 
moistened  eye  and  quivering  lip,  the  household  groups 
as  they  proceed  to  their  accustomed  places  of  worship. 
In  the  notes  of  every  church  bell  that  swings  in  tower 
and  turret,  he  fancies  he  recognizes  the  old  familiar 
chime  of  the  venerable  sanctuary  that  is  now  far, 
far  away.  Kinglake,  in  that  fascinating  book  of  his, 
"  EOTHEN,"  tells  us  that  whilst  one  day  reposing  be- 
neath a  palm  tree  in  the  great  desert,  he  suddenly 
seemed  to  hear  the  bells  of  the  cljurch  of  his  native 
village,  and  so  perfect  was  the  illusion  that  he  was  ab- 
solutely startled  thereby.  And  so  in  the  pauses  of  the 
chimes  of  Trinity  church,  New  York,  there  seemed  to 
float  around  me  echoes  of  the  bell  notes  of  old  Saint 
Mary  Redcliffe,  the  church  described  by  Chatterton  as 

"The  pryde  of  Bristowe,  and  the  westerne  londe ;" 

But  a  dozen  strange  objects  speedily  dispelled  the  mo- 
mentary illusion,  and  convinced  me  that  though  water  is 
a  good  conductor  of  sound,  too  many  billows  rolled  be- 
tween me  and  old  England  to  allow  even  a  Fineear,  such 
as  we  read  of  in  the  fairy  tale,  to  catch  a  random  bell- 
note  amid  their  eternal  roar. 

It  wanted  yet  an  hour  to  the  time  of  commencing 
service  in  the  churches,  to  one  of  which  I  intended 
going.  So  descending  the  steps  of  that  great  caravan- 


108  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  OR, 

sary,  the  Astor  House,  I  strolled  into  the  adjacent 
burial  ground  of  Trinity  church,  and  after  having  paused 
for  a  few  moments  by  a  monument  placed  over  the  bones 
of  one  erratic  genius  by  the  sympathetic  benevolence  of 
another,  who  was,  in  his  turn,  after  a  brilliant  career,  to 
go  down  to  a  premature  grave,  I  left  the  spot  with  a 
sigh  for  the  vanished  glories  of  George  Frederick  Cooke 
and  Edmund  Kean.  Both  of  these  men,  the  latter 
especially,  had  been  splendidly  endowed  —  with  the,  for 
them,  fatal  gift  of  genius;  each  had  recklessly  flung 
away,  from  love  of  the  enchanting  cup,  friends,  fame 
and  fortune  ;  and  now,  their  parts  on  life's  stage  played 
out,  what  had  they  left  behind  them  but 

"  The  glory  and  the  nothing  of  a  name  ?  " 

I  am  not  sufficiently  familiar  with  the  localities  of 
New  York  to  state  with  precision  the  name  of  a  street, 
in  going  through  which  a  very  old-fashioned  looking  place 
of  worship  attracted  my  attention.  It  could  scarcely 
fail  to  do  so,  for  anything  like  antiquity  in  the  way  of 
buildings  is  so  uncommon  in  the  New  World,  that  when 
I  come  upon  such,  it  is  certain  to  be  noted  by  me.  This 
old  place  must  have  been  built  by  some  of  the  first  in- 
habitants of  New  York,  and  it  reminded  me  much  of  the 
old  meeting-house  interiors  which  we  meet  with  fre- 
quently enough  in  English  cities  and  towns.  I  entered, 
and  few  persons  being  present,  I  sat  down  in  one  of  the 
spacious  high-backed  pews.  It  really  seemed  for  the 
moment  as  though  I  must  have  been  there  before,  every 
object  appeared  so  familiar.  There  was  just  such  church 


PEN-PICTURES.  107 

furniture  as  I  had  been  accustomed  to  see  in  days  of 
childhood  ;  and  as  I  gazed,  memory  called  up  the  loved, 
the  lost,  the  distant,  and  the  dead,  and  they  all  seemed 
to  crowd  that  dingy  building. 

How  such  accidental  stumblings  on  places  of  this  kind 
make  one  revert  to  the  days  of  "  long  ago  ! "  A  writer, 
(I  know  not  his  or  her  name,)  so  nearly  describes  the 
first  impressions  that  I  recollect  were  made  on  my  child- 
ish mind  by  a  first  visit  to  a  place  of  worship,  that  I  am 
induced  to  quote  the  following  record  of  his  youthful 
thoughts  and  fancies,  believing  that  many  a  reader  will 
understand  it.  Our  unknown  friend  says :  — 

"  Never  shall  I  forget  my  first  impressions  of  church. 
I  was  just  out  of  petticoats  when  I  made  my  debut  in 
meeting.  How  the  people  got  into  the  gallery  was  a 
mystery  to  my  young  imagination ;  the  stairs  were  in 
the  end  porches  —  we  entered  at  the  front  door  —  it  was 
an  old  fashioned  house.  The  next  wonderment  was  the 
big  sounding-board,  suspended  not  quite  so  flimsily  as 
was  the  sword  of  Damocles,  but  by  a  single  rope,  which 
I  was  fearful  would  break,  and  let  down  the  cumbrous 
thing  on  the  minister's  head.  The  ornaments  upon  the 
top  of  it,  painted  with  yellow  ochre,  I  took  to  be  mo- 
lasses candy,  and  my  mouth  watered  for  more  of  it. 
The  glass  chandelier  was  the  next  object  of  my  observa- 
tion and  wonder.  I  could  by  a  little  stretch  of  the  im- 
agination, conceive  how  the  iron  rod  which  suspended  it 
from  the  ceiling  was  curiously  twisted,  having  performed 
a  similar  operation  upon  my  sister's  curling  head ;  but 
how  the  glass  candlesticks  and  the  ornaments  were  r 


108  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  OR, 

into  such  twistified  shapes  and  quirks,  staggered,  amazed, 
and  bewildered  my  young  brain  beyond  measure.  I 
was  fearful  that  this  whole  concern  would  fall  too,  think- 
ing that  the  iron  rod  was  only  stuck  in  the  ceiling,  but 
there  would  not  be  so  much  danger  attending  the  down- 
fall of  this  as  of  the  sounding-board,  except  in  the  egress 
and  ingress  of  the  people,  as  it  hung  directly  over  the 
centre  of  the  broad  aisle.  The  pillars  that  supported 
the  gallery  were  painted  in  a  very  distant  imitation  of 
marble.  I  had  heard  my  father  relate  a  story  of  some 
workmen  finding  a  live  toad  in  a  block  of  marble,  and 
my  unsophisticated  fancy  really  thought  it  was  one  of 
these,  as  there  was  a  wide  crack  in  a  corner  pillar. 
This  discovery  was  too  good  to  be  enjoyed  alone,  so  I 
spoke  out  aloud  to  my  mother  to  '  look  and  see  the 
place  where  they  got  the  toad  out ! '  But  my  parents 
thought  it  about  time  to  take  me  out  —  so  I  was  taken 
home,  and  an  embargo  put  upon  my  church  going  until 

I  could  behave  better." 

*  *  *  *  # 

After  quitting  the  old  church,  in  which  it  was  useless 
for  me  to  remain,  as  I  observed  that  the  services  were 
to  be  in  the  German  language,  I  once  more  set  out  in 
search  of  a  sermon.  Passing  the  park  I  sauntered  along 
Chatham  street,  and  soon  found  myself  one  of  a  long 
procession,  which  from  its  character,  so  different  from 
that  exhibited  by  the  denizens  of  the  Bowery  who  were 
not  to  be  mistaken  for  beings  of  any  other  race  or  re- 
gion whatever,  I  knew  to  be  composed  of  sedate  seekers 
of  some  temple  made  with  hands.  Suffering  myself  to 


PEN-PICTURES.  109 

be  carried  along  with  the  stream,  I  turned  with  it  into 
Oliver  street,  where  I  beheld  the  portic'o  of  a  large 
church  into  which  crowds  were  passing. 

Of  some  persons  who  were  standing  on  the  top  of 
the  short  flight  of  steps,  I  inquired  what  church  it  was, 
and  who  would  be  the  officiating  minister  that  morning. 
I  learned  that  it  was  the  Oliver  street  Baptist  church, 
and  that  its  pastor  was  the  Rev.  E.  L.  Magoon. 

Magoon,  Magoon,  I  said  to  myself.  Surely  I  have 
heard  that  name  before.  Where  was  it  and  with  what 
circumstance  had  it  been  connected  ?  S&on  I  recollected 
that  I  had  seen  it  on  the  title  page  of  a  book,  a  book  on 
American  orators,  I  think,  but  there  was  a  something 
else  that  was  associated  with  the  name  of  Magoon  in 
my  mind.  Suddenly  by  mnemonic  aid  I  solved  the 
enigma,  if  such  it  might  be  termed.  Looking  down  the 
street,  my  eye  caught  glimpses  of  the  tall  spars  of  the 
shipping  that  lay  below  in  the  East  river.  Now  one  sel 
dora  looks  at  an  assemblage  of  masts  without  mentally 
quoting  the  hackneyed  description  of  a  "  forest"  of  the 
same.  That  was  it  —  the  chord  of  memory  vibrated  in 
unison  with  the  phrase,  and  I  recollected  that  a  Rev. 
Mr.  Magoon  had  figured  in  the  notorious  Forrest  trial  as 
a  witness.  Could  the  pastor  of  the  Oliver  street  church 
be  the  same  person  ?  I  fancied  otherwise,  for  I  could 
not,  in  my  simplicity,  well  conceive  how  a  clergyman 
could  get  mixed  up  with  such  a  disreputable  affair.  It 
is  but  fair,  however,  to  say  that  Mr.  Magoon's  testimony 
only  went  to  show  that  he  was  on  friendly  terms  with 
10 


110:  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  OR, 

the  Forresfcs.  With  the  immediate  matter  with  which 
the  action  was  based  he  Tiad  nothing  whatever  to  do. 

The  church  was  spacious  and  commodious.  As  I 
entered,  a  hymn  was  being  sung  by  the  choir,  (not  the 
congregation,)  and  one  voice  was  so  audible  above  the 
others,  that  it  seemed  as  if  its  owner  was  ambitious  of 
sofo-izing.  It  reminded  me  of  another  solo  affair,  which, 
(my  pen,  as  I  have  before  intimated,  being  of  a  vagrant 
character,)  I  take  the  liberty  of  here  adverting  to. 

We  were  some  years  ago,  paying  a  visit  in  Devon- 
shire, England,%nd  of  course  on  the  Sunday  accompa- 
nied our  friends  to  their  parish  church.  It  was  one  of 
those  sweet  rural  places  which  it  does  one's  heart  good 
to  go  to ;  the  ancient  ivy-clad  tower  rose  from  amidst  its 
multitude  of  surrounding  graves,  on  which,  as  we  passed 
towards  the  porch,  sat  the  villagers,  chatting  on  various 
topics.  It  was  what  is  called  Palm,  or  Flowering 
Sunday,  and  according  to  immemorial  custom,  every 
grave  in  that  country  churchyard  was  covered  with 
flowers.  We  shall  not,  however,  attempt  to  describe 
minutely  the  scene  which  ensued  on  the  Paason's  arri- 
val, nor  tell  how,  as  he  passed  down  the  churchyard 
walk,  with  his  rusty  cassock  flying  in  the  breeze,  his  ser- 
mon-book in  one  hand,  and  a  huge  clasped  prayer-book 
under  his  arm,  he  with  his  right  hand  stroked  the  heads 
of  the  children  near  him,  or  courteously  lifted  his  shovel 
hat,  in  acknowledgment  of  the  bows  of  aged  folk ;  nor 
how  we  observed  a  pale,  consumptive  looking  girl  sitting 
on  a  tomb,  (appropriate  resting  place  for  her)  supported 


PEN-PICTURES.  Ill 

by  her  grandmother,  watching,  with  large,  hopeful,  lan- 
guid eye,  for  a  smile  from  the  good  man  whom  she  knew 
she  should  not  hear  many  times  more ;  nor  how  young 
bumpkins,  with  buxom  girls  on  their  arms,  pulled  their 
front  locks  with  their  big  fists,  and  blushed  stupidly; 
nor,  when  he  entered  the  sacred  building  and  the  ser- 
vice commenced,  how  the  church  was  decorated  with 
evergreens ;  nor  how  the  ambitious  choir,  consisting  of 
a  bass  viol,  two  fiddles,  (neither  of  them  being  a  Strad- 
uarius  nor  a  Cremona,)  a  reedy  sounding  clarinet,  (it 
had  been  bought  at  a  great  bargain  at  a  pawn  shop  in 
the  neighboring  town,)  a  bassoon,  and  a  fife,  executed 
"  Awake  my  soul,  and  with  the  sun,"  in  a  very  extra- 
ordinary style  and  manner ;  nor  how  all  the  little  charity 
children  in  the  gallery  bawled  prodigiously,  nor  how  the 
cracked  voices  of  the  alms-house  people  quavered  at  the 
end  of  every  verse,  long  after  the  other  people  had  done 
singing,  to  the  great  indignation  of  the  red-nosed  beadle, 
who  looked  at  the  poor  old  creatures  as  if  they  had  not 
souls  worthy  of  singing  at  all  when  the  Squire  was  pres- 
ent. We  merely  supply  the  outlines,  the  reader's  imag- 
ination will  readily  fill  them  up. 

One  of  the  psalms  of  the  day  was  written  in  a  pecu- 
liarly u  peculiar  metre,"  or  "perculer,"  as  the  Clerk 
pronounced  it ;  and,  unfortunately,  neither  the  fiddles, 
nor  the  bassoon,  nor  the  clarinet,  nor  the  fife,  could  for 
the  life  of  them  fit  a  tune  to  it ;  but  we  will  do  them  the 
justice  to  say,  that  they  did  the  best  in  their  power  to 
suit  it,  by  mixing  "long,  short,  and  common  metre" 


112  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  OR, 

tunes  together  very  ingeniously.  They  tried 
ways,  and  very  often  —  sometimes  they  would  proceed 
pleasantly  through  a  few  bars ;  first  the  bassoon  would 
grumble  discordantly,  then  the  fife  would  stop  playing, 
although  the  violins  fiddled  away  most  perseveringly. 
In  a  little  time  the  clarinet  would  wander  away  into  a 
wilderness  of  sounds,  lose  itself  and  die  in  the  distance 
with  a  feeble  quaver,  and  lastly,  a  crash  of  discord 
would  end  the  matter  ;  and  then  came  a  new  trial.  But 
all  would  not  do,  and  so,  as  a  last  resource,  the  old  clerk 
got  up,  and  to  our  utter  astonishment,  whistled  a  tune, 
which  the  choir  caught  cleverly ;  and  then  the  fiddles 
rejoiced,  the  clarinet  went  into  ecstasies,  the  fife  flour- 
ished wonderfully,  the  bass  viol  solemnly  sounded,  and 
the  churchwarden's  face  brightened  up  —  so  did  the 
beadle's ;  the  boys  also  bawled  lustily ;  and  from  that 
time  to  this,  Palm  Sunday  and  Whistling  Sunday  have 
ever  been  with  us  synonymous  terms. 

But  to  come  back  to  Dr.  Magoon. 

His  personal  appearance  was  striking  enough.  Of 
rather  tall  proportions,  he  seemed  to  assume  a  command- 
ing position  in  the  pulpit,  and  this  air  of — I  scarcely 
know  what  to  call  it  —  suppose  I  say  of  indifference  to 
what  anybody  thought  or  said,  seemed  to  sit  easily  upon 
his  shoulders.  His  face  was  full  of  character,  and  in- 
dicative, I  fancied,  of  a  mind  that  scorned  all  trammels, 
and  thought  and  expressed  those  thoughts  in  any  manner 
that  seemed  to  him  best,  heedless  of  the  praise  or  blame 
of  the  hearers.  Iron  gray  hair  was  carelessly  tossed 


PEN-PICTURES.  113 

about  over  a  high  but  narrow  forehead ;  the  eyes  were 
large  and  liquid ;  the  nose  prominent,  but  not  large ; 
and  the  mouth  somewhat  retracted  —  apparently  because 
the  "  grinders  were  few."  This,  also,  may  have  affected 
his  speech,  which  was  rather  thick,  and  at  times  indis- 
tinct ;  but  generally  it  was  loud  and  sonorous,  especially 
when  the  fire  of  his  oratory  burned  briskly,  as  it  fre- 
quently did  during  the  discourse  that  followed. 

Mr.  Magoon's  style  of  preaching  is  rather  of  the  er- 
ratic order.  To  a  great  extent  he  is  extemporaneous, 
and  frequently  when  you  are  anxiously  awaiting  the 
completion  of  a  chain  of  original  thought,  (for  he  is  at 
times  truly  original)  he  flies  off  at  a  tangent,  and  you 
become  bewildered  in  a  cloud  of  metaphor.  His  imagi- 
nation is  remarkably  developed,  but  the  ratiocinative 
power  he  makes  little  use  of,  if,  indeed,  he  possesses  it 
to  any  degree.  Logic,  argument,  pure  reasoning,  he 
seems  never  to  have  studied,  and,  as  a  consequence,  hia 
discourses,  though  filled  with  striking  passages,  are  de- 
ficient in  solidity.  Now  and  then  you  are  startled  by 
bursts  of  eloquence,  which  come  up  surging  like  a 
heavy  sea  over  a  barrier  beach  of  fine  words.  Quaint, 
too,  is  he,  and  sometimes  you  cannot  avoid  smiling  at 
his  odd  sayings.  Yet,  withal,  he  is  no  humorist.  His 
opinions  evidently  are  of  a  liberal  character,  and  I 
should  opine  that  folly,  hypocrisy  and  fanaticism  would 
find  little  mercy  at  his  hands.  Altogether  he  is  a  strik- 
ing preacher,  and  the  number  who  flock  to  hear  his  min- 
istrations proves  that  he  is  an  attractive  one. 

Mr.  Magoon  is  known  as  an  author,  but  with  him  in 
10* 


1.14  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  OR, 

that  capacity  I  have  nothing  to  do.  I  may,  however, 
say  that  his  books  have  been  popular,  and  no  work  can 
float  on  the  tide  of  success  without  having  some  elements 
of  vitality  in  its  pages. 


CHAPTER  X. 

A     SAILOR      PREACHER.       ANN     STREET.       FATHER    TAYLOR. 
THE  BETHEL  CHURCH.        ITS   CONGREGATION. 

SAILOR  PREACHERS.  Yes,  we  will  for  a  time  leave 
the  handsome  church  with  its  well  cushioned  pews  —  iti'-- 
elegantly  attired  congregation,  and  its  refined  observ- 
ances, for  the  purpose  of  visiting  a  place  of  worship, 
where  sailors  "  most  do  congregate."  Sanctuaries  for 
seamen  are  generally  selected  in  strange,  out-of-the-way 
places ;  in  the  neighborhood  of  wharves,  and  along  side 
docks,  and  in  dingy  streets  ;  so,  reader,  if  you  be  over- 
fastidious,  we  had  better  separate  for  a  season  ;  and  you, 
fair  lady,  if  you  care  not  to  follow  in  the  steps  of  Mrs. 
Fry  or  Miss  Dix,  pray  take  your  piety  and  patchouli 
somewhere  else,  for  I  warn  you  that  the  latter  will  be 
little  heeded  in  the  places  to  which  I  am  going.  Eut  I 
have  a  better  opinion  of  you  ;  so,  on  this  bright  Sabbath 
morning,  let  us  wander  to  one  of  the  mariners'  churches, 


PEN-PICTURES.  115 

and  on  future  occasions  we  wijl  visit  the  other  seamen's 
Bethels,  of  which  there  arp  no  less  than  five  in  Boston. 

We  are  bound  for  North  Square. 

"  Ah  !"  observes  some  reader,  it  may  be,  "  we  shall 
now  have  sompthin^jfunny,  for  Father  Taylor  is  to  be  -— 
there.  His  eccentricity  will  afford  the  CHURCH-GOER 
a  fine  opportunity  for  indulging  in  grotesque  descriptions 
or  serio-comic  remarks.  So  let  us  hear  what  he  has  to 
say  of  the  minister  of  the  Bethel  church." 

You  were  never  more  mistaken  in  your  life,  friend. 
I  dortt  mean  to  -be  "  funny."  Pulpit  sketching  is  a  se- 
rious business,  and  I,  for  one,  am  not  inclined  to  jest 
with  sacred  things,  —  if  you  are  otherwise  minded,  I  pray 
you  let  us  part  company.  Let  me  not,  however,  be  mis- 
apprehended. Fun  and  humor  are  very  different  things ; x 
—  the  latter,  I  by  no  means  object  to,  even  in  a  place 
of  worship,  and  many  an  eminent  divine  has  not  scrupled 
to  avail  himself  of  it. 

"  But  humor  in  the  pulpit  ?"  I  think  I  hear  one  of 
my  antique  friends  exclaim.  "  Bless  me,  how  exceedingly 
incorrect ;  how  notoriously  improper  and  wrong ;  how 
wholly  out  of  keeping  with  the  character  of  the  time  and 
place  ;  humor  in  the  pulpit  surely  cannot  be  tolerated  by 
any  rightly  discriminating  congregation."  Ah !  good 
friends,  I  am  quite  at  issue  with  you ;  I  think,  or  ven- 
ture to  think,  that  wit  and  humor,  duly  reined  and  guid- 
ed, as  they  will  always  be  by  a  refined  and  truly  pious 
mind,  may  be  eminently  serviceable  in  the  -pulpit  as  well 
as  on  the  platform.  They  can  utter  a  truth  at  a  stroke 


116  *       PULPIT  PORTRAITS  :   OR, 

or  wopd,  and  impress  the  results  of  other  heavier  labors 
by  a  single  touch. 

~  A  great  deal  might  be  said  on  this  topic,  but  I  shall 
merely  observe,  in  justification  of  my  opinion,  that  hu 
mor,  besides  being  a  keen  dissector  of  error / and  folly, 

'  presents  wisdom  in  a  more  lucid  form.  We  see  truth 
the  most  clearly  when  it  is  made  the  mo^t  ii-uly  Jjuman  ; 
few  people  are  able  to  comprehend  it  when  it  is  merely 
comprehended  as  a  naked  preposition  —  as  #n  abstraction, 
or  as  a  generalization.  Jlere  and  there  there  may  be 
one  or  another  in  your  congregation  able  to  ^follow  you, 
and  interested  in  your  searching  logic ;  but  a  man  must 
not  preach  to  one  or  to  two,  but  to  all;  the  most  abstract 
mind  in  your  congregation  is  human  :  draw  it  forth  from 
its  abstraction,  as  every  thought  has  to  be  clothed  in 
words  to  be  comprehended  ;  as  we  can  grasp  no  thought 
without  words  —  cannot  even  think  without  putting  what 
we  think  into  words,  —  so  we  do  best  service  for  truth 
when  we  develop  its  high  humanity.  And  do  you  not 

.'  know  that  human  and  humor  are  one  ?  You  see  'that  in 
my  idea  of  humor  f  have  not  thought,  as  most  people 
seem  only  to  think,  of  broad  grins  —  of  caricaturing  — 
of  loud  boisterous  laughter.  Oh  no';  the  best  humor 
runs  along  like  quicksilver ;  it  is  felt,  but  it  makes  no 
noise.  And  you  may  be  sure  that  whenever  there  is  a 
man  who  succeeds  in  winning  unfaltering  attention  to  his 
speech,  while  he  describes  homely  scenes  and  things,  or 
while  he  makes  his  pertinent  common  sense  appeals,  be 
sure  this  man  has  humor  not  the  less  because  he  does  not 

,  cause  it  to  leap  and  chuckle  before  you.  ^      / 


PE5HPICTURES.  117 

Very  much  of  ,^the  objection  to  Humor  as  a  teacher  re- 
sults from  its  very  frequently  being  confounded  with  vul- 
garity;  but  vulgarity  is  coarse  and  sensual — humor  is  •' 
refined  and.  spiritual ;  vulgarity  is  animal  —  humor  is 
human.  I  once  heard  a  man  in  London  —I mean  James 
Wells,  of  the  Surrey  Tabernacle  —  (let  not  this  be  con- 
founded with  the  Surrey  chapel,  of  which  *  James  Sher- 
man is  pastor)  who  has  a  congregation  of  from  twelve  to 
sixteen  hundred  persons  constantly  listening  to  him.  I 
s&y  I  once  heard  him  spiritualizing  a  wheelbarrow  - —  (just 
as  Eliza  Cook  in  her  trashy  mock-poetry  might  embellish 
a  poker)  —  describing  his  own  power  in  analyzing  the 
subterfuges  of  sin,  "  because  he  was  like  the  old  woman, 
who  having  been  in  the  coalhole,  knew  where  to  look  for 
her  daughter,"  likening  the  Arminian  theology  to  "  milk\  1 
and  water," 'and  "the  gospel  dispensation  to  fine  old  j 
crusted  port."  Rubbish  like  this  is  composed  of  mingled 
blasphemy,  vulgarity  and  absurdity.  I  say  the  man  who 
can  be  guilty  of  this  is  not  enough  in  earnest  to  be  hu- 
morsome  —  that  is,  to  have  a  real  perception  of  the  nicer' 
and  finer  shades  which  we  denominate  humor.  Such  >" 
men  would  do  to  make  a  mob  of  bumpkins  laugh  at  a  vil- 
lage fair ;  but  I  call  him  a  humorist  who,  like  Cervantes, 
can  shatter  to  pieces  an  already  diseased  and  dying  error ; 
like  Richter,  distil  fronk  laughter  the  wisdom  of  the  uni-  • 
verse  ;  or  like  Chaucer,  paint  portraits  of  such  true  beauty 
as  to  last  through  all  time.  J 

Very  different  is  the  route  we  are  now  travelling  from 
the  fashionable  "regions  of  Beacon  or  Park  streets.  We 
have  left  State  street  in  its  Sunday^  silence  —  a  silence 


118  PULPIT  PORTRAITS  I    OR, 

only  disturbed  by  a  few  danglers  about  the  post-office  en- 
trance, —  behind  us,  Faneuil  Hall,  too,  is  closed  and 
still,  and  Quincy  Market  no  longer  presents  its  long  arcade  I 
filled  with  creature-comforts  and  comestibles.     Skirting  I 
that  quaint  old  gabled  building  at  the  corner,  we  soon  i 
find  ourselves  in  the  gentility  tabooed  region  of  Ann 
street,  or  as  it  is  now  called  after  a  cardinal  point  of  the 
compass  —  North  street,  —  the   stars  however  of  that 
"North"  being  exceedingly  erratic  and  wandering,  and 
by  no  means  of  as  true  and  faithful  a  character  as  the 
mariner's  sky  or  beacon-light. 

Be  careful  how  you  walk  along  these  sidewalks,  for  at 
every  step  an  open  trap-door  yawns  to  ingulf  you ;  and 
to  escape  the  dangerous  depths  —  more  dangerous  and 
deceitful  than  any  which  yawn  on  dismal  seas  —  you 
must  plunge  into  the  foul  gutter  that  lazily  flows  by, 
reeking  with  filth  and  pestilence.  On  week  days  these 
dens  send  forth  from  their  hideous  recesses  sounds  of  fid- 
dle and  tambourine  that  mock  the  surrounding  moral 
desolation,  and  act  as  lures  to  some  dance-loving  tar ;  but 
now,  a  certain  compulsory  respect  is  paid  to  the  Sabbath 
day,  and  for  vile  music  is  substituted  viler  oaths  and 
curses  that  fall  from  the  lips  of  men,  boys,  women  and 
girls,  that  lie  blinking  and  blearing  on  the  steps ;  their 
drunken  fits  of  the  previous  night  not  being  half  shaken 
off.  As  we  proceed,  we  note  at  the  corners  of  lanes  and 
courts,  villanous  looking  boys  who  eye  you  furtively,  and 
then  as  a  police  officer  appears  in  sight,  dive  back  into 
the  gloom  from  which  they  had  emerged,  only  to  re- 
appear when  the  civic  functionary  is  out  of  .sight.  Here 


PEN-PICTURES.  119 

and  there  a  groggy,  coatless  sailor  is  to  be  seen  reeling 
along  with  a  slatternly  wench,  and  as  you  pass  the  bar- 
bers' shops  a  buzz  of  strange  noises  issues  from  the  open 
doors.  All  around  is  filth,  folly  and  iniquity,  and  were 
it  not  for  a  few  decently  dressed  people  who  are  walk- 
ing sedately  toward  the  church  in  North  Square,  you 
would  imagine  that  Pandemonium  had  here  located  a 
colony,  so  fiendish,  foul  and  ferocious  appeared  the  face 
of  every  man,  woman  and  child,  that  slunk  about  within 
its  horrible  precincts. 

Having  reached  a  "  fork "  of  Ann  street  we  enter 
North  Square  —  the  name  clearly  a  misnomer,  seeing 
that  it  is  a  triangular  space,  — but  what  is  in  a  name  ? 
Boston  is  called  a  moral  and  a  model  city,  and  we  have 
just  witnessed  what  iniquity  blackens  and  fosters  in  its 
very  heart !  In  this  North  square  we  know  there  is  a 
church,  but  as  yet  we  discern  it  not ;  but  looking  upward 
we  see  from  a  stunted  tower  a  blue  flag  waving,  and  in 
front  of  us  are  open  doors,  flanked  by  pillars  of  rough 
undressed  granite,  through  which  people  are  passing,  and 
feeling  assured  that  this  is  Father  Taylor's  church,  we 
pause  in  our  walk. 

Just  opposite  where  we  stand,  the  door  of  a  house  is 
opened ;  a  rather  striking  looking  person  emerges  from 
the  interior  and  proceeds  briskly  along  the  sidewalk 
towards  the  church  door.  The  people,  or  some  of  them, 
stare  at  him ;  but  on  he  goes,  heeding  none  of  them. 
He  is  of  the  average  height,  but  spare  and  wiry — no 
superfluous  flesh  about  his  iron  frame  —  and  he  treads  the 
street  as  firmly  as  a  youth,  though  more  than  sixty  years 


120  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  OR, 

must  have  passed  over  that  weather-beaten  figure.  Hisj 
chest  is  wrapped  up  in  a  gray  plaid,  of  a  small  checked! 
pattern,  and  —  for  the  air  is  keen  —  he  muffles  up  his} 
face  with  it,  permitting  us  only  to  see  some  iron-gray! 
locks  that  straggle  from  under  his  closely-pressed  down1 
beaver.  But  no  matter,  we  shall  have  an  opportunity! 
presently  of  seeing  him  to  better  advantage,  for  that  is! 
FATHER  TAYLOR. 

After  ascending  a  short  flight  of  steps,  we  find  our- 
selves in  the  Bethel  church.  It  is  small  and  neat  —  the 
only  ornament  being  Tlarge  painting  at  the.  back  of  the! 
pulpit,  representing  a  ship  in  a  stiff  breeze  off  a  lee 
shore,  we  believe,  for  we  are  not  seaman  enough  to  be 
certain  on  the  point.  High  over  the  mast-head  are  dark 
storm-clouds,  from  one  of  which  a  remarkably  small  an- 
gel is  seen,  with  outstretched  arms  —  the  celestial  indi- 
vidual having  just  flung  down  a  golden  anchor  bigger 
than  itself,  to  aid  the  ship  in  her  extremity,  we  presume, 
although  there  is  attached  to  the  said  anchor  but  a  few 
inches  of  Californian  cable,  which  for  any  practical  purpose 
would  not  be  of  the  slightest  use.  However,  we  must 
not  be  critical  on  allegories ;  and  perhaps  many  a  sailor 
now  on  the  great  deep  has  pleasant  recollections  of  the 
picture  —  if  so,  a  thousand  such  anachronisms  might 
well  be  pardoned. 

Whilst  the  choir  in  the  gallery  is  singing  a  hymn  to 
the  homely  tones  of  a  small  organ,  let  us  glance  at  the 
congregation  ;  and  a  motley  gathering  it  is. 

There  are  no  affectations  in  this  place  of  worship, 
whatever  there  may  be  in  some  others  that  we  wot  of. 


PEN-PICTURES.  t  121 

Fiom  our  pew  (into  which  we  were  ushered  by  an  old 
sailor  with  a  patch  over  his  eye,  and  a  limp  in  his  gait,) 
we  can  survey  the  whole  scene.  And  it  is  a  motley  one. 
The  centre  of  the  church  is  principally  occupied  by  sail- 
ors ;  and  in  some  of  the  side  pews  are  landsmen,  attract- 
ed by  curiosity,  perhaps,  or  they  may  be  relatives  of  sea- 
men. But  somehow,  even  many  of  these  have  an  am- 
phibious air,  as  though  they  could,  without  much  effort, 
cast  off  their  dress  coats  and  don  the  blue  jacket. 

Sailors  of  all  descriptions  are  there.  Old  salts  with 
grizzled  locks,  short  and  crisp  on  the  temples,  and  thin 
on  the  crown;  —  "Jacks,"  in  the  prime  of  life,  with 
dark  hair,  or  locks  bleached  by  storms  and  time ;  with 
sun-burnt  faces,  and  great  freckled  hands,  and  brown 
necks,  and  with  a  free  and  easy  roll  in  their  walk ;  fine 
handsome  young  fellows,  coxcombs  of  the  sea,  who  had 
come  "capering  ashore,"  with  plenty  of  dollars  and 
dimes  ;  — young  lads  with  frank  faces  and  clear  eyes, 
and  turned  down  blue  collars,  bordered  with  white  ;  — 
rough,  hairy-looking  fellows,  in  their  shirt  sleeves,  or  red 
shirts,  lounging  in  the  seats  uneasily,  as  though  they  were 
sadly  out  of  their  element — as  indeed  they  are;  and 
well-dressed  captains  and  mates,  with  their  wives  and 
children  —  all  looking  as  happy  as  kings  and  queens,  be- 
cause "  father  is  home  again."  These,  and  many  others, 
whom  we  cannot  stay  to  describe,  compose,  to  a  great 
extent,  the  honest-looking,  hearty  audience,  who  are  this 
morning  to  listen  to  Father  Taylor. 

But  here  and  there  are  worshippers  of  another  class. 
Pale,  anxious-looking  women,  some  of  whom  shudder  in- 
11 


122  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:    OR, 

voluntarily  as  the  wind  roars  without.  And  well  may 
they,  for  their  husbands  or  brothers,  or  sons  or  fathers, 
are  far  out  upon  icy  seas,  where,  during  the  long  polar 
night,  only  faint  flashes  of  the  aurora  borealis,  partially 
illuminates  berg  and  floe  ;  or  sweltering  in  the  dreary 
calms  of  tropical  oceans,  on  whose  long  lazy  swell  is  re- 
flected the  coruscations  of  the  glorious  southern  cross  ; 
or  it  may  be  on  surf-beaten  reefs,  where  the  shipwrecked 
sailor  lifts  his  tattered  signal  on  his  broken  oar,  and 
strains  his  blood-shot  eye,  in  the  hope  of  attracting  the 
notice  of-sSoma  passing  ship  —  some  vessel  of  Hope  — 
whose  hull  never  darkens  the  distant  horizon  ;  or,  haply, 
lying  "  full  fifty  fathoms  down,"  his  bones  bleaching  in 
ocean-caves,  from  whence  they  shall  never  rise  until  the 
sea  give  up  the  dead  that  are  in  it.  And  there  are 
ocean  widows,  too,  in  that  assemblage,  not  knowing  them- 
selves to  be  such,  who,  in  their  lonely  rooms,  to  which 
they  shall  presently  repair,  have  gaudy  portraits  of  their 
absent  spouses  on  the  walls,  and  strange  waifs  and  strays 
of  the  deep  on  the  mantel-shelf — sea-weed  and  shells, 
and  insect-bored  wood ;  and  a  model  of  a  ship  on  a 
bracket,  made  by  his  own  hands,  and  rigged  to  a  rope  ; 
and  sea-horses'  teeth,  and  old  books  of  navigation  and 
the  like  —  none  of  which  they  would  exchange  for  their 
weight  in  gold. 

Gradually  the  church  has  become  full;  but  "  the  cry  is 
yet  they  come."  The  pews  are  nearly  every  one  occu- 
pied, and  every,  now  and  then  Father  Taylor  rises,  and 
with  his  long  arm  waves  some  sailor  to  a  seat  that  his 
keen  eye  spies  out,  for  he  has  no  idea  of  space  being 


PEN-PICTURES.  123 

sacrificed  to  ease.  At  length  the  pews  are  crammed,  and 
now  he  calls  the  fresh-comers  to  the  sofa  of  the  pulpit. 
With  half  bashful  looks  the  tars  mount  the  steps  and  sit 
beside  the  minister,  who  at  length  has  even  his  own  seat 
filled.  But  he  rather  likes  that,  for  he  paces  to  and  fro 
on  the  platform,  a  smile  of  grim  satisfaction  playing  on 
his  features.  At  last  all  are  supplied  with  seats,  and  the 
service  commences* 


CHAPTER    XI. 

SAILOR    PREACHERS,     CONTINUED. 

PULPIT.        SKETCH     OF     FATHER     TAYLOR'S      PBEACHING.  . 
"  OLD    TIMBERHEAD  "    ANECDOTES,  ETC. 

THE  congregation  having  "  settled  down,"  the  minister 
advances  to  the  desk,  hymn  book  in  hand,  and  with  spec- 
tacles pushed  up  to  the  summit  of  his  high  furrowed  fore- 
head,  again  narrowly  scrutinizes  his  audience.  The  gray 
plaid  has  been  flung  aside,  and  you  see  a  vigorous  but  not 
fleshy  frame  before  you.  The  gray  eyes  are  piercing  and 
filled  with  energy,  and  there  is  vigor  and  determination 
in  every  lineament.  With  the  chin  slightly  dropping  on 
the  chest,  he  again  peers  over  his  glasses  into  remote 
corners  of  the  church,  and  occasionally  waves  hand  or 
hymn-book  as  he  perceives  some  sailor  without  a  seat 


124  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  OR, 

At  length,  all  being  apparently  disposed  to  his  liking,  he 
gives  out  the  hymn. 

And  he  reads  it  with  much  feeling  —  heart-feeling,  I 

mean.     His  voice  seems  at  first  somewhat  husky,  but  it 

is  perfectly  distinct.     There  is  decision  in  every  tone. 

Occasionally  he  indulges  in  a  brief  commentary  between 

the  verses,  and  it  may  be,  requests  those  who  do  not  par- 

v(    ticipate  in  the  sentiments  uttered  not  to  join  in  singing 

"  them.     Then  having  gone  through  the  hymn,  the  choir 

sings  it. 

Whilst  they  are  so  engaged  Father  Taylor  does  not  sit 
down.  There  seems  to  be  very  little  desire  for  repose  on 
his  part.  With  folded  arms  and  spectacles  again  shoved 
up  amidst  his  iron-gray  hair,  he  paces  to  and  fro  on  the 
platform  —  now  with  his  eyes  bent  on  the  floor,  and  now 
curiously  eyeing  the  people  below.  A  hawk's  eye  has 
he,  and  be  there  a  single  unoccupied  inch  of  space,  you 
may  be  sure  that  it  will  not  escape  his  notice.  By  the 
time  the  hymn  is  finished  he  has  resumed  his  place  at  the 
desk,  and  opening  the  Bible  with  a  jerk,  he  reads  a  chap- 
ter from  it. 

As  in  the  case  of  the  hymn,  so  in  that  of  the  chapter, 
he  reads  impressively,  if  not  with  a  due  regard  to  elocu- 
tional conventionalities.  For  all  kinds  of  scholastic  re- 
straints, indeed,  he  has  an  evident  abhorrence.  This 
portion  of  the  exercises  terminated,  he  kneels  and  offers 
up  a  prayer. 

The  spectacles  are  again  on  the  summit  of  his  forehead, 
and  as  he  waxes  warm  and  animated  we  confidently  ex- 
pect that  they  will  not  long  retain  their  position.  But  no, 


PEN-PICTURES.  125 

they  are  apparently  used  to  it,  and  there,  spite  of  sundry 
shakes  of  the  head  —  not  over  gentle  ones  either  —  they 
remain.  At  first  his  petitions  to  Heaven's  mercy-seat 
are  short,  pithy  and  sententious ;  but  as  he  goes  on,  the 
prayer  partakes  a  good  deal  of  the  character  of  an  im- 
passioned speech.  With  eyes  rigidly  closed  —  a  swaying 
motion  of  the  body  —  a  grip  of  the  cushion-corners  by 
his  nervous  hands  —  and  with  disarranged  hair,  he  goes 
on,  as  energetically  as  any  "  Praise-God-Barebones  "  of 
the  old  Covenanter  times.  And  he  prays  fora?? — for 
his  own  land  and  other  lands  —  for  sailors  of  all  nations 
and  on  all  seas  —  for  the  whole  human  race.  There  is 
an  expansive  benevolence  in  his  addresses  to  the  Deity, 
which  seems  characteristic  of  the  man ;  nothing  of  sec- 
tarian narrowness  —  not  a  particle  of  bigotry.  As  may 
be  expected,  "  they  that  go  down  to  the  sea  in  ships," 
engross  a  large  portion  of  his  petitions,  and  the  earnest- 
ness, with  which  he  pleads  for  their  special  necessities 
frequently  draws  tears  from  many  an  eye. 

Another  hymn.  The  choir  at  this  Bethel  church  is 
not;  so  scientifically  proficient  as  are  those  of  fashionable 
churches ;  but  it  is  a  good,  plain,  honest,  hearty  choir 
for  all  that ;  and  what  is  better,  the  people  in  the  pews 
below  second  the  eiforts  of  the  persons  in  front  of  the . 
organ  in  the  gallery  above.  There  are  no  flourishes, 
shakes  or  fal  lals  of  any  sort,  but  what  are  just  as  good 
—  perhaps  better  —  if  one's  ear  is  not  over  correct  — 
you  hear  the  running  accompaniment  of  some  gruff  bass 
voice  proceeding  from  a  great,  bare,  hairy  throat.  And 
it  is  really  touching  to  think,  as  you  listen  to  those  hoarse 
11* 


126  PULPIT   PORTRAITS  I    OR, 

tones,  that,  though  they  are  now  chanting  the  praises  of 
the  Most  High,  in  subdued  cadence,  yet  that  when 
"  mighty  winds  are  all  abroad,"  and  seas  are  dashing 
over  deck  and  mast,  they  are  to  be  heard  above  the  boom 
of  the  billows,  and  the  raging  of  the  tempest.  Mr.  So- 
and-so,  the  "  eminent "  vocalist,  might  sing  with  more 
taste  and  science,  but  "  Jack's  "  voice,  rough  and  inhar- 
monious as  some  might  think  it,  is,  I  confess,  quite  as 
welcome  to  me. 

Now  for  the  sermon. 

The  text  is  read  twice  ;  then  there  is  a  pause,  during 
which  the  preacher  quietly  looks  around  him,  then  with 
a  sudden  touch  the  spectacles  ascend,  and  in  firm,  decid- 
ed tones,  he  commences  his  discourse. 

Have  we  a  scholar  in  the  desk  ?  Father  Taylor  gives 
the  meaning  of  some  word  in  the  "  original."  And  he 
does  it  well,  too,  though  it  is  not  difficult  to  discern  that 
he  has  got  his  information  at  second-hand.  But  then,  he 
does  not  pretend  to  profundity  of  learning ;  he  has  so 
lofty  a  scorn  of  hypocrisy  of  any  sort,  that  he  would  be 
the  last  man  to  pass  himself  off  for  that  which  he  is  not 
—  an  erudite  student.  Nor  does  he  require  such  adven- 
titious aid  —  indeed  he  is  better  without  it,  for  though  I 
yield  to  no  man  in  my  reverence  for  learning,  I  firmly 
believe  that  many  a  fine  mind  is  cramped  by  collegiate 
training.  For  nearly  every  good  writer,  amongst  our 
Divines,  a  good  preacher  is  sacrificed. 

And  here  I  may  remark,  en  passant,  that  the  pulpit  is 
no  longer  ahead  of  the  press,  as  it  was  in  the  days  of 
Whitefield  and  his  contemporaries ;  no,  it  creeps  feebly 


PEN-PICTURES.  127 

in  the  rear.  What  great  preacher,  either  of  America  or 
England,  would  be  acknowledged  as  a  jurist  in  the  courts 
of  thought  or  of  style  ?  The  pulpit,  it  would  seem,  has 
delegated  its  ancient  authority  and  power  to  those  won- 
derful types  and  fountains  of  thought  in  the  printer's 
office.  In  many  places  the  press  has  quite  superseded 
the  pulpit.  In  most  large  towns  —  perhaps  in  the  area 
of  civilization  it  is  so :  —  it  is  so  much  easier,  pleasanter 
and  more  instructive  to  read  than  to  hear,  and  it  must  be 
admitted  as  an  apology  for  this  that  this  is  eminently  an 
intellectual  age,  and  the  supreme  intellect,  genius,  is  not 
—  perhaps  seldom  has  been  —  in  the  pulpit.  Let  the 
reader  think  of  the  names  of  the  gifted  men  who  wield  a 
power  by  their  affections,  by  their  scholarship,  or  their 
imaginations,  over  the  minds  of  men  ;  how  brilliant,  how 
versatile,  how  profuse  in  splendor  and  diction  ;  how  illus- 
trious in  the  imperial  domains  of  thought ;  and  then  let 
him  think  of  the  names  of  the  most  eminent  orators  or 
teachers  from  the  pulpit,  and  he  will  find  scarce  a  name 
worthy  to  be  mentioned  by  theirs,  or  if  so,  ashamed  to 
bring  to  the  pulpit  the  genius  with  which  it  adorned  the 
press. 

To  a  very  great  degree  the  inefficiency  of  the  pulpit 
arises  from  its  nonchalance  and  carelessness  —  its  defi- 
ciency of  feeling.  Would  you,  young  minister,  retain 
your  place  in  the  pulpit  ?  Would  you  compete  success- 
fully with  the  press  ?  Well,  it  is  easy  to  do  so  ;  only 
this  is  necessary :  take  care  that  your  hearers  —  take 
care  that  the  public  in  general  have  not  a  more  per- 
fect sympathizer  in  the  book  than  in  the  preacher.  Yes ! 


128 


take  care  of  that  —  take  care  that  there  is  not  more  real 
life  in  dead  paper  and  printed  letters  than  in  real  flesh 
and  blood.  For  look  !  a  man  goes  to  the  preacher ;  he 
finds  him  passionless  and  cold  ;  idealless  and  dull;  unread 
and  uninstructive  ;  he  turns  hastily  away.  He  goes  to  a 
book ;  he  finds  it  full  of  passion  and  warmth ;  full  of 
ideas  and  excitement ;  full  of  knowledge  and  instruction  ; 
he  finds  the  book  to  be  a  sympathizing  friend.  He 
finds  the  preacher  to  be  a  tedious,  tiresome  talker.  Now 
that  system  of  pulpit  ministration  is  quite  defective, 
which  does  not  compete  successfully  with  the  book.  In 
the  management  of  an  efficient  man,  every  sermon  might 
be  made  —  certainly  not  as  great  as  the  greatest  books, 
but  as  interesting  as  the  most  interesting. 

Now  we  shall  see  that  it  is  in  consequence  of  the 
warmth  and  earnestness  of  Father  Taylor,  as  well  as  of 
his  originality,  he  is  so  eminently  attractive  to  men  who 
would  go  to  sleep  in  nineteen  out  of  a  score  of  our  fash- 
able  churches. 

On  goes  Father  Taylor  with  his  sermon.  After  pro- 
ceeding for  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour  he  gets  fairly 
warmed  up  to  his  work  ;  and  now,  pushing  the  Bible  to 
one  side  of  the  cushion,  and  throwing  up  the  spectacles, 
he  pours  forth  a  flood  of  passionate  oratory.  Every  now 
and  then  he  pauses  —  rubs  the  side  of  the  cushion  with 
his  long  hand  —  looks  as  though  some  strong  thought  was 
seething  and  melting  and  fusing  itself  in  the  crucible  of 
his  brain  —  and  now  he  pours  it  forth  to  take  form  and 
shape  for  the  edification  of  his  hearers.  And  quaint  and 
grotesque  enough  these  "  castings"  of  his  thoughts  are. 


PEN-PICTURES.  129 

Solemn  and  in  earnest  as  the  preacher  is,  it  is  impossible  )  j 
to  avoid  smiling  occasionally  at  his  remarks.  At  one 
moment  he  shall  draw  you  a  picture  of  the  most  touching 
pathos,  so  that  your  eyes  will  moisten  and  your  lip  quiver, 
and  in  the  next  some  sharp  sarcasm,  or  withering  denun- 
ciation, or  scorching  satire,  shall  cause  you  to  wonder  at 
the  old  man's  energy.  Touches  of  true  poetry  are  not 
unfrequent,  and  I  have  heard  as  pure  eloquence  fall  from 
his  lips  as  ever  the  most  accomplished  and  much  lauded 
amongst  us  ever  delivered.  And  the  glory  of  all  these 
things  was  only  the  more  perceptible,  because,  apparent- 
ly, so  unpremeditated.  All  things  said  and  done  were 
said  and  done  off-haixd,  and  in  a  tone  that  might  surely 
appear  gruff,  but  for  the  music  of  sensibility  which  turn- 
ed its  otherwise  hard  cadences  to  harmony,  so  he  bluntly 
shook  out  upon  his  auditors  words  and  illusions  which 
each  was  a  poem.  No  man  that  I  have  seen  ever  re- 
vealed more  plainly  than  Father  Taylor  how  much  more 
he  felt  and  saw  than  he  was  able  to  utter ;  his  eye  re- 
vealed it.  The  figure  and  the  phrase  were  beautiful, 
but  from  that  rough  and  careless  tongue,  yet  quivering 
with  sensibility,  they  became  overpowering  and  sublime. 

Very  energetic  becomes  Father  Taylor  at  times.  As 
he  speaks  he  paces  to  and  fro  almost  gasping  with  emo- 
tion. Sometimes  he  stops  suddenly  —  rests  his  hands  on 
the  cushion  —  stoops  forward,  and  fixing  his  eye  on  some 
person  or  other,  exclaims  something  in  this  way  :  —  "  And 
you,  sir,  you,  sir  !  you  think  you  can  escape  the  eye  of 
this  all-seeing  God,  sir, — you,  a  poor  worm  of  the  earth, 
— you,  (rubbing  his  hands  along  the  side  of  the  pulpit 


130  .  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  OR, 

£*  <•    ' 

cushion)  I  tell  you,  sir"  —  etc.     And  then  he  turns  toi 

another  part  of  the  building,  and  in  subdued  tones,  says : 
We  are  all  of  us  soon  to  go  to  God's  judgment-seat. 
Here  we're  like  a  balloon  —  all  filled  with  the  buoyant 
gas,  and  ready  to  ascend  into  the  pure  atmosphere  —  'tis 
only  confined  to  the  ground  by  cords  —  now  they're  cut, 
and  there  it  goes  —  up  —  up  —  up  —  and  away  it  sails 
in  all  its  beauty  and  freedom,  far  from  this  earth  below. 
Yes  — yes  —  (pointing  to  an  old  gentleman  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  church)  my  aged  brother,  yo u'll  soon  go  — 
there  are  but  few  cords  to  keep  you  here ;  you're  nearly 
ready  ;  the  last  tie  will  soon  be  cut.  I  can  see  you,  like 
the  balloon,  swaying  to  and  fro,  impatient  to  be  gone. 
God  speed  you,  my  brother." 

To  such  as  this  would  succeed,  perhaps,  a  tirade 
against  obstinacy.  And  then  we  are  given  a  graphic  de- 
scription of  the  conversion  of  Saul  of  Tarsus,  during 
which  we  are  told  that  the  "  old  rascal,  when  going  to 
Damascus  to  persecute  the  Christians,  was  knocked  off 
his  horse  ; "  or  to  illustrate  the  process  of  conviction  he 
would  put  himself  in  a  shooting  attitude,  and  shoot  invis- 
ible arrows  from  imaginary  bows  right  into  some  of  the 
pews.  Now  he  would,  in  soft  and  felicitous  accents,  de- 
scribe the  beauties  of  a  Paradise  morning,  and  then  fly 
off  at  a  tangent  to  fling  a  contemptuous  sentence  at  "  Mr. 
Fiddle-de-dee  up  there,  who  endeavored  to  account  for 
the  miracles  of  Christ."  One  Sunday  morning  I  heard 
him,  when  addressing  sailors,  refer  touchingly  to  his  old 
companions  of  the  deep,  which  he  did  something  in  this 
way.  I  have  no  notes  to  guide  me,  and  therefore  the 


PEN-PICTURES.  131 

reader  must  not  expect  absolute  accuracy ;  but  I  will  be 
as  nearly  correct  as  possible.     He  had  been  preaching  a 
'long  sermon,  and  seemed  somewhat  fatigued,  but  sud- 
denly he  blazed  up  and  exclaimed :  u  Ah,  my  time  is 
nearly  up,  I  see,  but  I  feel  as  if  I  was  only  just  begin- 
ning to  preach  now.      Yes,  yes,  I  could  keep  on  for 
hours  to  come ;  but  I  must  close.     But  I  can't  do  so 
without  a  few  more  words  to  some  that  I  may  never  see 
again.     I've  been  engaged  in  the  work  many  years,  and 
my  toil  may  be  most  done.     Ah !  where  are  all  my  old 
shipmates  gone,  —  they  who  lay  in  hammocks  beside  me, 
and  who  have  fought  at  the  same  gun  ?     Gone,  gone, 
Ithey  are  all  gone.     No,  blessed  be  God,  not  all ;  there's 
one  left.     [Here  he  pointed  to  an  old  salt  with  a  bald 
head,  a  red  nose,  and  a  regular  man-of-war  cut.]     Yes, 
there's   old  Timberhead !     He  and  I  have  weathered 
many  a  storm  together.     But  he's  moored  safely  now, 
and  waiting  for  the  last  bell.     [Here  poor  old  Timber- 
head  began  to  show  symptoms  of  tears,  as  did  many 
i  more,  myself  included.]      The  summons  will  soon  be 
1  heard,   brother.      Aye,    and   many   of  you,   my   aged 
I  friends,  will  soon  hear  it  too.     You  are  tossed  and  tem- 
<  pest-driven  now,  but  it's  only  a  little  farther  you  have  to 
c  sail ;  look  ahead ;  you'll  have  only  to  beat  round  that 
last  point,  and  then  you'll  be  safe  moored.     Yonder's 
•  the  haven  full  in  view."     And   a   murmur  of  "  bless 
I  God"  concluded  the  appeal. 

From  this  description  it  will  be  easily  understood  that 
Father  Taylor  is  possessed  of  remarkable  dramatic 
power.  He  acts,  indeed,  with  the  pulpit  for  a  stage : 


182  PULPIT   PORTRAITS:    OR, 

but  he  does  not  act  the  buffoon.     In  him,  that  is  natural  j 
and  effective  which  in  others  would  be  strained  and  af-| 
fected.     Sometimes  he  is  pungent  and  pointed.     If  he 
observes  any  of  the  congregation  sneaking  out  just  be-  j 
fore  the  contribution-box  goes  round,  he  is  very  apt  to  j 
send  a  hot  shot  after  the  shabby  defaulters.     Does  he  j 
observe  any  of  his  congregation  asleep,  he  will  not  hesi-  j 
tate  to  pointedly  reprimand  and  inform  them  that  there  i 
is  a  certain  place  where  the  temperature  will  prevent ; 
their  indulging  in  a  nap ;  or  if  any  "  fast"  young  men 
are  guilty  of  light  or  trifling  behavior,  woe  to  them,  for 
verily  the§£  will  have  their  reward  of  rebuke.     In  what-  , 
ever  he  says  or  does  you  iftay  be  sure  he  is  thoroughly 
in  earnest,  and  that  is  perhaps  the  secret  of  his  great 
success  among  the  class  to  which  he  especially  devotes 
his  time  and  energies. 

It  has  been  said  that  Father  Taylor  gives  one  the  im- 
pression of  a  person  who  hates  the  devil  more  than  he 
loves  Christ.  I  do  not  think  so.  Fierce  indeed  is  the 
warfare  which  he  wages  against  the  powers  of  Darkness, 
but  not  less  powerful  is  he  when  he  dwells  on  the  glories 
of  Heaven  and  the  mercy  of  Jehovah.  With  such 
v  hearers>ms1ri/it  is  necessary  that  the  battering-ram  of 
Truth  should  be  worked  by  no  feeble  hand ;  but  happily 
he  can  heal  the  breach  after  he  has  made  it.  No,  no ; 
Father  Taylor  loves  Christ  all  the  more  for  hating  Satan 
so  much. 

A  volume  might  be  filled  with  Mr.  Taylor's  pithy  re- 
marks. And  we  could  not  conceive  of  one  which  would 
be  more  interesting  and  instructive.  His  sermons  entire 


PEN-PICTURES.  133 

would  never  be  popular,  but  extracts  from  them  would 
be.  Why  has  no  one  attempted  to  collect  his  "say- 
ings," whose  "  doings"  have  been  described  by  so  many 
sketchers  from  Dickens  down  to  this,  the  humblest  re- 
corder of  them  all?  Doubtless  many  of  his  remarks 
have  been  remembered  by  his  sailor  hearers  when  they 
were  far  away  from  North  Square,  and  possibly  Father 
Taylor  covets  no  wid^popularity  than  this. 

On  one  occasion  we  visited  Bethel  Church  in  company 
with  a  New  York  Comedian  of  high  reputation  in  his 
walk.  Father  Taylor  commenced  by  an  appeal  in  behalf 
of  a  Sunday-School  pic  nj^,  and  spoke  so  beautifully  of 
children,  and  sh^^^?ho^/much  he  loved  to  see  them  at 
their  little  sports,  tnat  he  almost  seemed  himself  to  grow 
young'  again  in  the  recollection  of  them.  The  actor 
was  perfectly  fascinated ;  and  at  an  after  part  of  the 
discourse,  while  Mr.  Taylor  was  indulging  in  a  strain  of 
pathos,  I  chanced  to  look  round,  and  my  friend,  used  as 
he  was  to  artificial  scenes  and  descriptions,  was  so  af- 
fected by  the  unstudied  art  of  the  preacher,  that  he 
fairly  blubbered  behind  his  pocket-handkerchief. 

FATHER  TAYLOR  is,  I  believe,  highly  esteemed  and 
valued  by  sailors.  And  so  should  he  be.  For  many  a 
year  he  has  loved  them  and  labored  for  them.  He  has 
stood  by  the  desolate  bed  of  many  a  forlorn  tar,  and 
soothed  his  last  hour.  Many  have  had  reason  to  bless 
him,  and  still  he  labors  on  heedless  of  age  and  its  needed 
repose.  Rest,  however,  he  does  not,  and  will  not  whilst 
there  remains  work  for  him  to  do.  Long  may  he  be 
spared  to  those  whom  he  so  affectionately  calls  his 
12 


184  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  OR, 

"  children,"  for  such  lives  as  his  are  of  priceless  worth, 
and  their  value  is  only  adequately  estimated  when  for- 
ever lost.  So  ends  our  reminiscence  of  the  sailors' 
preacher,  Father  Taylor. 


CHAPTER   XII. 


SPECULATIONS.  THE  MUSIC  HALL.  THEODORE  PARKER'S 
CONGREGATION.  THE  PREACHER.  HIS  PERSONAL  AP- 
PEARANCE. STYLE,  ETC. 

"HAVE  you  heard  Theodore  Parker?"  —  Such  is 
the  question  which  will  be  put  to  a  stranger  in  Boston, 
who  asks  any  questions  respecting  the  pulpit  of  the 
"  Athens  of  America."  Should  you  inquire  to  what 
denomination  the  preacher  belongs,  or  at  which  church 
he  preaches,  you  will  be  informed  that  he  delivers  his 
orations  in  no  ecclesiastical  edifice,  but  in  the  new  Music 
Hall  ;  and  as  for  his  particular  sect,  very  few  appear  to 
know,  or  indeed  care  anything  about  it.  He  is  never 
spoken  of  as  being  identified  with  any  body  of  Chris- 
tians; and  indeed,  the  prefix  of  "Reverend"  is  seldom 
accorded  to  him.  Theodore  Parker,  and  Theodore  Par- 
ker alone,  seems  to  be  all  that  his  admirers  care  about. 

But,  if  you  are  curious  on  the  subject,  you  will  learn 


PEN-PICTURES.  135 

by  consulting  the  title  page  of  his  published  volume  of 
sermons,  that  he  is  "  Minister  of  the  Twenty-Eighth 
Congregational  Society."  Many,  indeed,  are  the  dis- 
putes as  to  which  body  he  really  belongs.  The  orthodox 
folks,  of  course,  repudiate  him.  The  Unitarians  show 
him  the  cold  shoulder,  and  the  whole  legion  of  sects,  in 
fact,  will  have  none  of  him.  Evangelical  Christians 
pronounce  him  an  infidel  of  the  first  water.  Keligionists 
of  the  old  Puritan  School,  shudder  when  his  name  is 
mentioned,  and  forbid  their  children  hearing  him ;  and 
this  whilst  his  followers  boast  of  his  piety  of  life  and  his 
boundless  benevolence.  But  Theodore  Parker,  it  is  said, 
cares  for  neither  praise  nor  censure,  and  Sunday  after 
Sunday,  from  his  desk  in  the  Music  Hall,  with  a  sort  of 
"  Bucks,  have  at  ye  all"  spirit,  he  discharges  his  arrows 
sharp  and  fast  at  each  of  them. 

Reader,  accompany  me,  in  imagination,  to  the  Boston 
New  Music  Hall.  It  is  a  brilliant  Sabbath  morning, 
and,  quitting  the  now  silent  Washington  street,  we  stroll 
along  the  verdurous  walks  of  the  "  Common ;"  Heaven's 
glare  of  blue,  tempered  and  toned  down  by  the  flicker- 
ing masses  of  foliage  above,  through  which  creep  sun- 
beams that  pave  as  'with  brilliant  Mosaic  the  grass  at  our 
feet.  Scores  of  bells  are  swinging  out  their  invitations 
to  praise  and  prayer,  and  through  Tremont  street  goes  a 
long  procession  of  church- visiting  Bostonians.  Following 
in  their  track,  we  pass  Park  street  church,  and  then, 
suddenly  turning  to  our  right  hand,  enter  Bumstead 
place,  at  the  end  of  which  is  one  of  the  gates  of  the 
Hall,  which  we  enter. 


136  PULPIT  PORTKAITS  :    OR, 

You  have  never  visited  this  building  ?  Well,  then,  as 
we  are  early,  let  us  ascend  to  the  upper  gallery,  for  the 
purpose  of  surveying  the  scene  to  advantage.  And  a 
brilliant  coup  d'ceil  is  presented  as  we  pass  through  the 
little  glass  door  to  our  seat,  and  take  in  the  whole  inte- 
rior at  a  glance.  Although  we  are  far  aloft,  the  richly- 
decorated  and  gilded  ceiling  is  high  above  our  head  — 
but  look  below,  and  tell  me  if  you  ever  beheld  a  more 
charming  spectacle. 

Already  the  place  is  filled,  the  two  galleries  and  the 
body  of  the  Hall  itself,  and  the  platform  nearly  so. 
There  are  neither  pillars  nor  chandeliers  to  obstruct  the 
view ;  so  that  we  may  sit  in  our  most  comfortable  chair, 
for  such  it  may  be  called,  and  let  our  eyes  wander,  like 
Wordsworth's  river,  at  their  "  own  sweet  will."  Imagine, 
reader,  that  you  are  in  the  car  of  a  balloon,  looking 
down  on  a  garden  of  flowers,  all  of  which  have  burst 
into  bloom,  and  you  may  form  some  idea  of  the  appear- 
ance of  Mr.  Parker's  congregation.  The  ladies  are  of 
course,  as  the  reporters  say,  elegantly  dressed,  and  so 
the  various  colors  of  ribbon,  silk  dress,  shawl  and  scarf, 
present  quite  a  kaleidoscopic  appearance.  Mercy  on 
us !  What  countless  yards  of  crape  and  crinoline  are 
ingeniously  folded  into  many  a  fashion  below !  One 
lady  immediately  beneath  presents  the  appearance  of  a 
small  head  and  shoulders  rising  from  a  cloud  of  muslin, 
a  bust  surmounting  a  balloon !  The  black  coats  and 
heads  of  the  gentlemen  relieve  the  glare  of  white,  blue, 
crimson  and  multiform  combinations  of  the  prismatic 
tints,  and  give  a  sober  tone  which  is  really  needed. 


PEN-PICTURES.  137 

Fans  are  fluttering  in  all  directions.  Here  and  there 
you  may  observe  a  gentleman  reading  his  Sunday  morn- 
ing's newspaper  —  and  there,  in  a  corner  of  the  gallery, 
a  young  lady  is  busy  over  some  "yellow-colored  lit- 
erature;" conversation  is  not  interdicted,  and  around 
us  is  a  perpetual  buzz.  Are  you  fond  of  notabilities  ? 
Then  I'll  point  out  one  or  two  who  are  usually  to  be 
found  in  Mr.  Parker's  congregation,  for  we  have  yet  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  to  spare,  and  it  is  useless  to  waste 
time. 

That  tallish  man  with  light  reddish  hair,  a  good  shaped 
head,  and  whose  face  is  indicative  of  great  force  of 
character,  is  Wendell  Phillips  —  certainly  one  of  the 
most  fascinating  speakers  in  the  United  States.  Just 
beyond  him,  and  in  the  seat  next  to  the  platform,  is  a 
gentleman  with  a  shining  bald  head,  save  at  the  temples 
and  behind.  Look  at  him  well,  for  he  is  a  man  who  will 
leave  his  impress  on  this  age.  You  must  often 
have  heard  of  him  —  that  is  William  Lloyd  Garrison. 
Hereafter,  I  shall  furnish  a  sketch  of  this  remarkable 
man  ;  so  for  the  present,  I  leave  him.  There,  under 
the  gallery,  with  chin  in  hand,  is  a  young  and  rising 
public  man.  Look  at  his  intellectual  face  —  his  keen 
eyes  —  his  bold  forehead  —  it  is  Anson  Burlingame  —  a 
fine  thinker  —  an  adroit  debater,  and  a  ready  speaker. 
Yonder  is  a  young  man  of  slight  figure  and  low  stature, 
but  with  head,  eyes  and  forehead  of  remarkable  size. 
You  can  see  his  great  gray  eyes  through  the  spectacles 
which  are  before  their  bulging  balls.  That  is  Edwin  P. 
Whipple.  Alongside  him,  is  one  of  those  New  England 
12V 


138  PULPIT  PORTRAITS  :    OR, 

bards,  who  peddle  poems  at  "  commencements"  and  in 
Lyceums,  just  as  other  Yankees  vend  more  material 
"  notions."  But  the  organ  commences  a  voluntary,  so 
let  us  observe  a  decorous  silence,  and  keep  our  eyes  and 
ears  wide  open. 

While  the  music  is  sounding,  a  gentleman  makes  his 
appearance  on  the  ample  platform,  and  walking  to  its 
centre,  seats  himself  in  a  plain  arm-chair.  Before  him 
is  a  small  cushioned  desk,  with  flaps  on  either  side,  on 
one  of  which  is  placed  a  Bible,  and  on  the  other  a  bunch 
of  flowers.  With  his  hands  joined  on  his  lap,  he  sits  un- 
til the  music  ceases,  and  then  rising  and  stepping  for- 
ward, he  rather  indicates  a  preparatory  prayer,  than  ut- 
ters one  ;  for  what  he  does  say  is  in  so  low  and  mum- 
bling a  tone,  that  only  those  near  him  can  be  at  all 
benefited  by  it.  This  concluded,  he  opens  a  book  and 
selects  a  hymn.  While  he  is  so  engaged,  let  us  glance 
at  his  "  outer  man." 

You  may  see  at  once  that  he  belongs  to  the  studious 
race.  That  slight  stoop  of  the  shoulders,  which  all  close 
students  acquire,  to  a  greater  or  less  degree,  is  observa- 
ble. He  is  rather  short,  or  on  that  platform  appears  to 
be  so,  as  we  look  at  him  from  above.  His  figure  is  spare, 
but  not  slender ;  it  in  fact,  is  well  proportioned.  The 
head  is  striking ;  not  that  it  is  like  Whipple's,  of  a  re- 
markable size ;  but  on  account  of  its  symmetrical  pro- 
portions. It  appears  an  extremely  well  balanced  skull ; 
but,  avoiding  the  senseless  jargon  of  "  organs"  and  "  de- 
velopments," let  me  simply  remark,  that  it  is  a  sensible 
looking  head.  Excepting  on  the  temples  and  behind,  it 


PEN-PICTURES.  139 

is  destitute  of  hair,  the  forehead  thus  appearing  larger 
than,  strictly  speaking,  it  actually  is.  As  to  the  features, 
they  cannot  be  called  "  striking ;"  they  are,  in  fact, 
extremely  common-place  ;  nay,  their  expression  is  abso- 
lutely dull.  The  spectacled  eyes  appear  to  have  little 
"  speculation"  in  them,  and  the  nose  is  of  a  kind  which 
may  be  called  insignificant.  The  mouth  is  large ;  the 
face  more  round  than  oval ;  the  complexion  pale,  and 
the  hair  somewhat  gray.  So  much  for  the  personal  ap- 
pearance of  Theodore  Parker. 

He  reads  the  hymn  well  and  with  feeling;  but  his 
voice  is  thick,  indistinct  and  husky ;  then  he  resumes 
his  chair,  and  the  choir,  perched  up  behind  him,  sings 
the  stanzas  through,  in  quite  a  scientific  style.  The  con- 
gregation takes  no  part  whatever  in  this  part  of  the  ser- 
vice, and  it  appears  rather  like  an  exhibition  of  vocalism, 
than  an  act  of  adoration  and  praise.  There  is  no  heart 
in  it,  and  little  wonder  that  it  goes  off  coldly. 

Next,  a  short  passage  from  the  Bible  is  read,  and 
another  prayer  follows.  It  is  uttered  in  the  same  dull, 
husky  voice,  and  appears  devotional.  As  he  proceeds, 
his  tones  become  clearer  and  more  distinct,  and  now,  after 
all  you  have  heard  of  "  Atheism  "  and  "  Infidelity,  "  you 
are  surprised  to  listen  to  sentences  and  sentiments  which 
might  have  fallen  from  the  lips  and  flowed  from  the  heart 
of  the  most  orthodox  minister  in  America.  It  contains  no 
toilsome  repetition,  no  offensive  familiarities,  no  mere 
common  places  of  diction,  and  at  its  close  you  come  to 
the  conclusion  that,  like  a  certain  gentleman  who  is  fre- 
quently libelled  by  being  painted  in  the  darkest  of  colors, 


140  PULPIT  PORltRAITS  :    OR, 

Mr.  Parker  is  not,  after  all,  quite  so  heterodox  as  he  has 
been  represented. 

Another  hymn  is  sung,  and  then  Theodore  Parker 
rises  once  more  ;  this  time  to  preach,  or  lecture,  which- 
ever term  you  choose,  you  may  apply  to  his  address ; 
perhaps  the  latter  is  the  most  appropriate. 

Laying  aside  the  Bible,  he  places  his  manuscript  on 
the  velvet  cushion,  and  from  it  reads  a  text  of  Scripture, 
merely,  it  would  seem,  as  a  matter  of  form,  for,  as  a 
text  you  will  before  long  see  it  is  utterly  useless.  He 
now  (and  let  me  be  understood  as  speaking  of  his  dis- 
courses generally)  gives  utterance  to  a  few  brief,  pithy 
remarks,  and  then  announces  the  particular  theme  or 
topic  of  discourse.  Not  far  has  he  proceeded  before  you 
are  attracted  by  the  novelty  of  his  discourse,  and  by  his 
utter  disregard  of  all  pulpit  conventionalities  whatever. 
Has  some  leading  politician  been  playing  "  fantastic 
tricks"  before  his  countrymen  ?  No  matter  who  he  may 
be,  nor  how  high  is  his  position,  Theodore  Parker  dis- 
sects his  conduct  with  a  merciless  scalpel,  and  lays  open 
to  view  the  blundering  statesmanship  or  the  unlucky  blun- 
derer himself,  just  as  a  lecturer  on  pathology  might  dis- 
play to  a  class  of  students  the  morbid  appearance  of  a 
liver  or  a  brain.  Evidently  he  has  not  the  fear  of  man 
before  his  eyes  ;  indeed,  the  more  exalted  the  quarry, 
the  more  eager  is  he  to  unhood  the  falcons  of  his  sarcasm 
y\  or  his  satire,  and  to  rejoice  as  they  swoop  and  pounce 
upon  it.  The  selection  of  topics  such  as  these,  tliat  is, 
the  misdoings  of  men,  seems  to  be  characteristic  of  the 
preacher.  Who  that  heard  his  sermont  on  Daniel  Web- 


PEN-PICTURES.  141 

ster,  ere  the  ashes  of  the  statesman  were  well  cold  in  his 
grave  at  Marshfield,  will  soon  forget  the  savage  earnest- 
ness with  which  he  seized,  as  it  were,  with  his  teeth,  on 
the  frailties  of  the  departed  politician ;  shook  them  as 
a  blood-hound  shakes  the  quivering  flesh  of  its  human  vic- 
tim, and  then  laid  them  down  with  a  scarcely  conceal- 
ed triumph ;  a  triumph  which  took  the  shape  of  a  regret  ? 

As  some  may  be  ignorant  of  Mr.  Parker's  real  posi- 
tion, it  may  be  well  to  give  an  extract  or  two  from  a 
couple  of  late  published  sermons  of  his. 

"  I  do  not  believe  there  ever  was  a  miracle  or  ever 
will  be ;  everywhere  I  find  law  —  the  constant  mode  of 
operation  of  the  Infinite  God.  I  do  not  believe  in  the 
miraculous  inspiration  of  the  Old  Testament  or  the  New 
Testament.  I  do  not  believe  the  Old  Testament  was 
God's  first  word,  nor  the  New  Testament  his  last.  The 
scriptures  are  no  finality  to  me.  *  *  *  I  do  not  be- 
lieve the  miraculous  origin  of  the  Hebrew  Church,  or  the 
Buddhist  Church,  or  the  Christian  Church ;  nor  the  mi- 
raculous character  of  Jesus.  I  take  not  the  Bible  for  my 
master,  nor  yet  the  Church,  nor  even  Jesus  of  Nazareth, 
for  my  master.  I  feel  not  at  all  bound  to  believe  what 
the  Church  say  is  true,  nor  what  any  writer  in  the  Old 
or  New  Testament  declares  true  ;  and  I  am  ready  to  be- 
lieve that  Jesus  taught,  as  I  think,  eternal  torment,  the 
existence  of  a  devil,  and  that  he  himself  should  ere  long 
come  back  in  the  clouds  of  heaven."  Speaking  of  Je- 
sus, he  says  :  "  He  is  my  historic  ideal  of  human  great- 
ness ;  not  without  errors,  not  without  the  stain  of  his 
times,  and  I  presume  of  course  not  without  sins  —  for 


142  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  OR, 

men  without  sins  exist  in  the  dreams  of  .girls,  not  in  real  j 
fact ;  you  never  saw  such  a  one,  nor  did  I,  and  we  never  1 
shall."  In  one  of  Mr.  Parker's  published  works,  speak- 
ing of  Jesus  Christ,  Mr.  Parker  condemns  him  for  his  I 
abusive  language  to  the  Scribes  and  Pharisees,  when  he 
says,  "  Ye  serpents,  ye  generation  of  vipers,  how  can 
ye  escape  the  damnation  of  hell  ?"  Mr.  P.  thinks  this 
language  hard  and  abusive,  but  presumes  the  author  of  the 
language,  i.  e.  Jesus,  is  excusable  by  reason  of  his  youth. 
A  Liberal  of  the  first  water  &  Theodore  Parker.  Hu- 
man progress  is  dear  to  his  heart,  and  most  of  his  ser- 
mons have  a  bearing  on  this  subject.  With  the  humbler 
classes  of  society  he  professes,  and  doubtless  possesses 
a  profound  sympathy.  In  point  of  originality,  there  are 
many  hundreds  of  ministers  who  surpass  him,  for  his 
quaintnesses  are  frequently  taken  for  this  prime  quality. 
But  he  is  perfect  master  of  rhetoric,  wit  and  sarcasm, 
and  with  these  weapons  he  wages  a  succcessful  warfare. 
No  wonder  he  is  popular  among  the"  youthful  and  the 
impulsive  —  they  like  dashing  hits,  and  pointed  allusions 
—  but  they  like  also,  too  many  of  them,  to  let  other  peo- 
ple do  their  thinking  for  them.  And  not  a  few  are  nev- 
er more  delighted  than  when  they  hear  better  men  than 
themselves  abused.  It  is  an  infirmity  of  our  natures  in- 
deed, to  like  slashing,  whether  the  lacerations  are  in- 
flicted by  pen  or  tongue.  Could  Melanchthon  come  to 
Boston  next  Sunday  and  preach,  the  mild  Reformer 
would  not  please  the  u  pensive  public"  so  much  as  The- 
odore Parker.  No,  the  healthy  appetite  /in  too  many  of 
us  is  vitiated,  and  we  must  have  our  mental  aliment  fla- 


PEN-PICTUKES.  143 

vored  with  pungent  condiments  before  we  can  take  it 
down.  With  this  sort  of  food,  digestion  has  little  to  do 
—  the  crudities  pass,  and  leave  no  nourishment  behind. 

Many  of  Mr.  Parker's  sermons  are  essays  in  the 
strictest  sense.  Others  are  dissertations  on  political 
economy ;  and  many  are  acute  criticisms  on  men,  man- 
ners and  morals.  They  all  evince  much  erudition  and 
varied  scholarship.  What  George  Gilfillan  said  of  the 
style  of  Dawson,  the  celebrated  English  Lecturer,  may 
be  said  of  Theodore  Parker's:  —  "  Its  strength  lies  in  its 
Saxonism  ;  it  is  as  if  Cobbett  were  talking  Transcenden- 
talism ;  it  is  a  strong  energetic  style ;  it  is  plain  and  gro- 
tesque ;  it  is  the  Monk  Bede,  translating  Goethe,  or  Cole- 
ridge, for  the  benefit  of  his  conntrymen ;  it  is  like  a 
carving  of  Carlyle  set  on  a  corbel,  or  in  a  niche  of  an 
old  Saxon  minuter.  *; 

Mr.  Parker,  again,  is  brimful  of  knowledge  of  histor- 
ical and  biographical  parallels,  of  all  ancient  sa\^s,  and  * 
all  modern  instances ;  full  to  overflowing  of  language, 
and  the  power  to  use  it;  in  climax,  in  antithesis,  in  allit- 
eration, in  poetry,  or  in  declamation  ;  full  of  wit  —  biting 
wit ;  full  of  remembrances  from  the  old  dramatists,  and 
he  has  Shakspeare  almost  by  heart ;  full  of  love  for  all 
new,  good  books :  poetry,  philosophy,  politics  ;  every  lec- 
ture, every  speech,  heaves  like  an  ocean  wave,  yet  we 
see  that,  like  the  ocean  wave,  it  is  often  not  only  rich  for 
what  it  is  in  itself,  but  for  wrhat  it  flows  over,  too  ;  and 
you  feel,  therefore,  while  you  listen,  that  it  is  no  effort 
for  him  to  speak  like  that.  He  hangs  the  wreath  of  lit- 
erature around  the  abstractions  of  politics,  entwines 


144  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:    OR, 

transcendentalism  and  German  philosophy  with  every- 
day matters,  and  infuses  the  genius  of  poetry  into  the 
doctrines  of  Adam  Smith  and  John  Mill.     He  does  not  I 
turn  up  new  truths,  but  he  labors  hard  to  convert  the  I 
arid  wastes  of  political  economy  and  science  into  a  flower 
garden. 

It  is  natural  enough  that  he  whose  hand  is  so  often  lift- 
ed up  against  other  men  should  be,  in  his  turn,  assailed. 
One  writer  asserts  that  "  whatever  may  be  said  of  him 
by  his  friends  to  the  contrary,  his  true  rank  as  a  theo- 
logian is  with  the  old  English  Deist."  And  Orestes  A. 
Brownson  says  in  his  review :  — 

"  He  [Mr.  P.]  has  learning,  wit5  eloquence ;  but  he 
is  neither  strong  nor  amiable.  He  has  a  little  dash  of 
sentimentalism ;  but  he  has  not  the  large,  loving  heart. 
He  has  no  consideration  for  others,  no  self-forgetfulness, 
no  disinterestedness,  no  generosity.  He  can  never  un- 
derstand what  he  owes  to  an  opponent,  and  has  nothing 
but  sarcasm  and  abuse  for  those  who  differ  from  him. 
He  attacks  every  class  of  the  community,  denounces 
every  doctrine  and  institution  not  in  accordance  with  his 
private  reason,  and  when  called  upon  to  defend  his  own 
course,  he  either  takes  refuge  in  undignified  silence,  or 

\x  replies  with  a  repetition  of  his  sarcasm  and  abuse  ;  he 
denies  all  authority,  and  then  frets  and  scolds,  or  whines 
and  whimpers  because  he  is  not  listened  to  as  a  divinely 
commissioned  teacher.  He  proclaims  the  absolute  right 
of  private  judgment  in  all  men,  and  then  regards  him- 

*  self  as  personally  attacked,  insulted,  abused,  persecuted, 
if  others  exercise  the  right  of  private  judgment  against 


PEN-PICTURES.  145 

the  doctrines  he  puts  forth.  He  denies  the  authority  of 
the  Church,  of  the  Bible,  Apostles,  and  even  our  Lord 
himself,  and  yet  feels  that  we  do  him  great  wrong  when 
we  refuse  to  accept  his  utterances  as  divine  oracles,  and 
to  bow  down  to  him  as  more  than  Bible,  Church,  Proph- 
et, Apostle  or  Messiah,  and  worship  him  as  the  Incarnate 
God.  His  pride  blinds  his  judgment,  and  prevents  him 
from  seeing  that  if  there  is  any  hostility  to  him  person- 
ally in  this  community,  it  is  provoked  by  his  own  selfish- 
ness and  arrogance,  —  by  his  own  want  of  proper  con- 
sideration for  others,  and  neglect  of  the  ordinary  courte- 
sies of  civilized  life.  *  *  *  We  never  read  any  writings 
which  were  more  despotic  in  principle,  or  which  contain- 
ed lels  of  the  spirit  of  true  liberty,  than  those  of  Mr. 
Parker.  There  is  liberty  on  his  tongue,  but  none  in  his 
heart ;  there  is  in  words  the  proclamation  of  brotherhood 
—  in  spirit  there  is  only  rancor,  hatred,  bitterness,  spite. 
Asserting  the  absolute  freedom  of  opinion,  he  denounces 
in  the  §0y.erest  terms  all  who  do  not  agree  with  him  :  con- 
tending for  the  utmost  freedom  of  action  and  the  recti- 
tude of  all  human  conduct,  he  denounces  as  monsters  of 
iniquity  all  who  do  not  square  their  lives  by  the  arbitrary 
rules  he  chooses  to  lay  down.  Asserting  in  lofty  terms 
the  infallibility  of  all  huraan  nature  in  all  ages  and  na- 
tions, he  holds  all  men  but  himself  to  have  fallen  into 
damnable  errors,  and  to  deserve  to  be  compassionated 
as  fools,  or  to  be  execrated  as  the  enemies  of  God  and  man. 
"  We  confess,  and  we  are  sorry  to  be  obliged  to  confess, 
that  we  cannot  regard  Mr.  Parker  as  either  a  strong  or 
a  truthful  man.  He  is  not  a  man  of  broad  and  elevated 
13 


146  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  OR, 

views,  of  high  and  generous  alms,  of  a  frank  and  noble 
nature  ;  in  his  most  serious  efforts  and  loftiest  aspirations 
there  is  always  something  low,  something  mean,  some- 
thing paltry.  We  always  find  something  sinister  and 
something  cowardly  in  every  page  of  his  writings,  or,  at 
least  something  weak  and  spiteful,  and  he  is  the  last  man 
of  our  acquaintance  to  whom  we  could  award  the  high 
praise  he  most  covets  —  that  of  true  manliness." 

But  Mr.  Brownson  is  no  "  oracle."  A  writer  in  the 
Christian  Repository,  says :  — 

"  Whatever  may  be  said  truthfully  of  Mr.  Parker, 
even  if  as  inconsistent  as  the  above  extracts  make  him, 
the  bigoted  and  self-conceited  0.  A.  Brownson  ought 
not  thus  to  denounce  him.  As  a  sample  of  Mf.  B.'s 
bigotry  and  dogmatic  disposition,  we  give  the  following 
from  his  published  writings,  which  shows  the  ill  nature 
of  the  man.  A  fiend  from  the  fabled  region  of  Tartarus 
could  have  no  more  of  hate  and  rancor  in  hiijltyil,  than 
does  this  Romish  oracle.  Take  the  follo^Sfr^as  a 
sample,  which  evinces  that  Brownson  dips  his  pen  in 
gall."  u  Protestants  do  not  study  for  truth,  and  are 
never  to  be  presumed  willing  to  accept  it,  unless  it 
chances  to  be  where  they  wish  it.  *  *  *  They  have  no 
sense  of  responsibleness,  no  loyalty  to  truth,  no  mental 
chastity,  no  intellectual  sincerity.  *  *  They  are,  under 
the  point  of  religion  and  philosophy,  wholly  rotten,  and 
from  the  sole  of  the  foot  to  the  crown  of  the  head,  there 
is  no  soundness  in  them.  *  *  *  If  you  find  a  candid 
Protestant,  you  may  safely  conclude  he  lacks  intelli- 
gence, as  when  you  |ind  an  intelligent  Protestant,  you 


PEN-PICTURES.  147 

may  be  sure  he  lacks  candor.  *  *  *  Finding  the  essence 
of  Protestantism  to  be  mere  vulgar  pride,  —  that  it  is  a 
mortal  disease,  rather  than  an  intellectual  aberration,  it 
is  evident  we  are.  to  treat  it  as  a  vice,  rather  than  an 
error,  and  Protestants  as  sinners,  rather  than  as  simple 
unbelievers  or  misbelievers.  *  *  *  We  honor  them  quite 
too  much,  when  we  treat  them  as  men  whose  heads  are 
wrong,  but  whose  hearts  are  right:  the  wrongness  of 
th6  head  is  the  consequence  of  rottenness  of  the  heart." 
These  citations  are  from  a  book  published  about  a  year 
since  by  Mr.  B.,  and  dedicated  to  the  Virgin  Mary.  In 
thfr  number  of  the  Eeview  for  April  last,  the  leaders  of 
the  Protestant  Reformation  are  thus  stigmatized :  "  They 
were  all  either  renegade  priests  and  apostate  monks,  or 
princ^Riotorious  for  their  vices,  their  crimes  and  brutal 
tyranny.  There  is  not  one  of  the  prominent  leaders  of 
the  Reformation  in  whom  you  can  discover  a  single  re- 
deeminj^fnloral  feature.  Luther,  Melanchthon,  Zuingle, 
Far  el-,  ""Calvin,  Beza,  Cranmer,  as  well  as  the  princes 
who  protected  them  and  supported  their  cause  by  their 
arms  and  their  policy,  were  men  who  exhibited  in  their 
lives  —  at  least,  from  the  moment  of  their  revolt  against 
the  Church,  not  a  single  Christian,  and  scarcely  a  single 
heathen  virtue."  The  man  who  can  utter  such  whole- 
sale vituperations  indiscriminately  against  the  whole 
Protestant  world,  ought  not  to  denounce  Mr.  Parker  as 
self-conceited  or  assumptive." 

The  writer  in  the  Repository  whom  I  have  already 
quoted  says :  — 

"  As  it  regards  Mr.  Parker,  he  undoubtedly  does  a 


148  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:    OR, 

very  good  work  in  castigating  the  naughty  and  incon- 
.,  sistent  politicians.  His  irony  and  sarcasm  come  in  very 
well  while  dealing  with  them.  As  it  respects  devotional 
piety,  the  world  will  never  be  much  indebted  to  him  for 
its  promotion.  There  is  too  large  a  vein  of  unbelief  in 
his  nature,  and  it  is  too  fully  developed  in  his  writings 
and  teachings,  to  entitle  him,  theoretically,  to  be  regard- 
ed as  a  Christian  teacher.  We  do  not  by  this  mean  to 
say  any  thing  against  his  character.  But  this  we  do 
know,  that  a  man  may  teach  the  greatest  absurdities  for 
truth,  and  still  be  a  moralist.  Those  who  regard  Mr. 
P.  as  a  model  preacher  of  the  Christian  theory,  may  be 
somewhat  mistaken.  In  our  admiration  of  a  man,  it  is 
well  not  to  swallow  down  his  errors  thoughtlessly.^ 

"  As  for  Mr.  Brownson,  he  is  what  he  is.  W^Pwe  a 
believer  in  election  and  reprobation,  we  should  believe 
he  was  born  to  be  damned  eternally.  The  devil  him- 
self, according  to  fabulous  theology,  was  not  more  of  an 
arch  apostate  than  is  0.  A.  Brownson.  He  rebels 
against  light,  in  giving  utterance  to  his  damnable  here- 
sies, and  to  the  Anti- American  principles  which  disgrace 
every  number  of  his  Review.  He  is  an  able  writer,  and 
might,  if  he  would,  do  much  service  for  the  cause  of 
humanity  and  the  cause  of  revealed  religion.  So  far  as 
at  the  present  time  he  exerts  an  influence,  he  deserves 
the  anathemas  of  his  countrymen.  If  not  a  Monoma- 
niac, he  knows  better  than  to  utter  the  contemptible 
sentiments  to  which  he  is  constantly  giving  utterance. 
We  hope  his  mind  will  yet  be  delivered  from  the  gall  of 
bitterness  and  bond  of  iniquity  in  which  it  is  now  im 


PEN-PICTURES.  149 

mersed, —  that  instead  of  remaining  a  misanthropist, 
liberal  sentiments  may  once  more  get  possession  of  his 
heart,  and  that  he  may  appear,  as  he  ought  to  appear, 
clothed  in  his  right  mind." 

In  private  life  few  men  command  more  esteem,  and 
indeed  admiration,  than  Mr.  Parker.  As  a  citizen  he  is 
blameless,  and  many  a  story  is  told,  and  truly  told,  of 
his  active  benevolence.  What  he  preaches  he  practises, 
and  that  cannot  be  said  of  all  who  occupy  the  pulpit. 
Let  us  conclude  this  sketch,  which  space  compels  us  to 
cramp,  with  a  story  they  tell  here,  which  may  or  may 
not  be  true.  In  these  days,  however,  when  Mrs.  Par- 
tington's  sayings  are  popular,  it  may,  at  least  be  told. 

As  two  ancient  ladies  were  coming  out  of  the  Music 
Hall,  after  service,  one  of  them  observed  to  the  other, 
"  Don't  you  think  Mr.  Parker  as  great  a  man  as  Christ  ? 
I  do."  "  No,"  replied  the  other,  "  Oh  no,  not  so  great 
as  that  —  but  I'll  tell  you  what  —  I  think  he  is  as  great 
as  Anti-Christ." 

13* 


150  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:   OE, 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

OLD  DIVINES.  COMPARISON  BETWEEN  SOUTH  AND  LY- 
MAN  BEECHER.  MR.  LOVEJOY's  SUCCESSOR.  DR.  BEECH- 
ER'S  PERSONAL  APPEARANCE.  FRAGMENTS  OF  HIS  EARLY 
HISTORY. 

VERY  fond  am  I,  now  and  then,  of  taking  down  from 
its  shelf  some  old  folio,  containing  the  -works  of  Baxter, 
Howe,  Henry  Smith,  Chillingworth  or  Jeremy  Taylor. 
I  cannot  explain  how  or  why  it  is,  but  I  never  can  relish 
the  works  of  these  worthies  so  keenly  in  mordernized 
editions.  Hot  pressed  paper,  dainty  gildings  and  legible 
types  seem  not  to  consort  with  their  quaint  matter. 
There  are  some  books,  indeed,  that  should  never  be  read 
but  in  black  letter,  or  in  the  original  editions.  Burton's 
Anatomy  of  Melancholy  is  one  of  them ;  to  enjoy  that 
rare  work  I  must  have  ifc  on  time-tinted  yellow  paper, 
the  letters  of  an  antique  rudeness,  the  fly-leaves  covered 
with  crabbed  autographs  of  former  possessors ;  if  mar- 
ginal notes  be  appended,  so  much  the  better ;  —  and  all 
bound  in  boards  —  real  oaken  boards  —  thick,  and 
covered  with  honest  brown  leather  —  its  back  being 
adorned  by  huge  ridges,  and  its  sides  guiltless  of  book- 
binders' "  tooling."  When  one  chances  to  be  in  a  con- 
templative mood,  such  a  book  is  a  treasure. 


PEN-PICTUKES.  151 

The  other  day,  while  hunting  for  a  stray  book,  I  came 
upon  a  folio  copy  of  South's  sermons.  Long  had  it  lain 
by  neglected,  but  now  I  reverently  drew  it  from  its  dingy 
recess,  and  gladly  renewed  my  acquaintance  with  the 
old  English  preacher.  It  was  evening,  a  Sabbath  even- 
ing, and  the  racy,  pungent  style  of  the  author  of  the 
book  accorded  well  just  then  with  the  tone  of  my  mind, 
for  I  had  on  the  morning  of  that  day  listened  to  the 
preaching  of  one  who  not  a  little  resembled  South.  He, 
too,  was  an  old  divine,  though,  I  am  happy  to  say,  not 
yet  numbered  with  the  past.  Still  he  lives,  though  more 
than  the  allotted  term  of  life  has  been  granted  him ;  and 
long  may  he  yet  labor,  for  the  world  has  need  of  the 
services  of  Lyman  Beecher. 

Yes ;  Dr.  Beecher  reminds  me  of  South.  He  has, 
though,  more  heart  than  that  preacher,  more  sympathy ; 
he  has  mi,  the  venomous  and  satiric  tooth  of  the  old 
renegade,  if  he  has  not  so  much  loftiness  of  conception  j 
but  still  thj^  points  of  resemblance  between  them  are 
manifold.  ^Both  of  them  characterize  their  discourses 
largely  by  wit  and  humor,  and  do  not  disdain  to  rouse 
their  audiences  occasionally  by  a  something  more  per- 
ceptible than  a  smile.  South  constantly  distilled  his 
best  thoughts,  even  in  preaching,  into  epigrams;  and 
Beecher  flings  not  unfrequently  th^epigrams  out  upon 
his  congregation.  Both  of  them  gromasters  of  original 
and  striking  thought,  amplified  by  numerous  ideas  and 
illustrations.  I  can  very  easly  imagine  Dr.  Beecher 
giving  utterance  to  such  sentiments  as  the  following,  — 
the  old,  impotent,  silver-haired  sinner  described  as  "  the 


152  PULPIT  PORTRAITS  :    OR, 

broken  and  decrepit  sensualist,  creeping  to  the  devil  on 
all  fours ;  a  wretch  so  scorned,  so  despised,  and  so 
abandoned  by  all,  that  his  very  vices  forsake  him."  Of 
dunces  occupying  prominent  situations,  old  South  says : 
"  If  owls  will  not  be  hooted  at,  let  them  keep  close  with- 
in the  tree,  and  not  perch  upon  the  upper  boughs." 
Pride  he  defines  to  have  been  the  Devil's  sin,  and  the 
Devil's  ruin,  and  has  been  ever  since  the  Devil's  strata- 
gem, who,  like  an  expert  wrestler,  usually  gives  a  man  a 
lift  before  he  gives  him  a  throw."  Speaking  of  the 
human  heart,  he  says :  "  no  one  knows  how  much  villany 
lodges  in  this  little  room."  Now  as  we  could  imagine 
Dr.  Beecher  uttering  many  of  these  things,  we  could 
very  well  conceive  South  uttering  many  of  the  pithy 
aphorisms  and  sentiments  with  which  Dr.  Beecher  flavors 
his  sermons.  But  the  Doctor  does  not  print  his  wit,  he 
utters  it  and  leaves  it ;  and  most  of  his  publish*  papers 
are  quite  free  from  that  with  which  his  puMt  services 
abound ;  added  to  \yhjch  there  is  a  peculiaij^femerism 
in  the  preacher,  — "hu&orous,  sometimes  co^rt,  sly  and 
glancing,  and  sometiriies  bold  ^nd-eqpeh, 'which  are  not 
without  their  influence  oh  his  popularity. 

But  before  I  further  describe  Dr.  Beecher's  mental 
features,  suppose  we  take  a  glance  at  the  man  himself, 
as  he  appears  in  t^teear  of  grace,  one  thousand,  eight 
hundred  and  fifty-t^K. 

Let  us  travel,  dear  reader,  as  far  as  Cambridgeport, 
for  there,  on  this  Sabbath  morning,  the  Doctor  is  to 
preach.  He  is  not  just  now  the  pastor  of  any  particular 
flock,  but  he  has  been  elected  to  fill,  for  a  time,  the 


PEN-PICTURES.  153 

pulpit  of  the  church  in  which  the  Rev.  Mr.  Lovejoy 
formerly  officiated.  Every  one  remembers  that  the  latter 
named  gentleman  had  to  quit  it,  in  consequence  of  his 
having  advocated  the  repeal  of  the  Massachusetts  Liquor 
Law  in  the  State  House.  As  if  to  mark  their  disappro- 
bation of  this  conduct  the  more  strongly,  the  congrega- 
tion installed  in  the  vacant  pulpit  the  Nestor  of  the  tem- 
perance movement,  Dr.  Lyman  Beecher.  Scarcely  had 
the  voice  of  the  defender  of  the  traffic  in  intoxicating 
drinks  ceased  to  sound  within  the  sacred  walls,  when  the 
tones  of  its  most  uncompromising  opponent  were  echoed 
from  them.  A  more  striking  exhibition  of  the  popular 
sentiment  on  a  momentous  subject  was  never  made. 

We  are,  then,  snugly  secured  in  our  seat  in  the  church 
alluded  to.  Already  is  it  filled,  and  the  preacher  as- 
cends to  the  pulpit.  Now  look  well  #t  him,  reader,  for 
he  is  a  man  of  mark.  If  you  be  young,  daguerreotype 
every  line  and  limb  on  the  plate  of  your  memory ;  for 
when  that  venerable  man  shall  in  the  course  of  nature 
be  resting  from  his  labor,  you  may,  in  future  days,  love 
to  recall  those  lineaments,  and  say :  "  I  saw  and  heard 
the  author  of  the  *  Six  Short  Sermons.' " 

Like  many  *&&er  men  who,  by  indomitable  energy, 
have  achieved  greaT  triumphs,  Dr.  Beecher  is  a  little 
man.  So  was  Isaac  Watts,  so  w^BLlexander  Pope,  so 
was  Napoleon,  so  was  Wellington.^^he  Davids  of  our 
race,  in  whom  lay  so  much  power,  unsuspected  as  well 
by  themselves  as  by  others,  have  been  the  greatest  vic- 
tors in  the  world's  physical  and  moral  conflicts.  Yet 
small  as  the  Doctor's  figure  is,  it  is  well  knit,  close  and 


154  PULPIT   PORTRAITS:    OR, 

compact.  How  much  vigor  there  yet  remains  in  every 
muscle.  What,  then,  must  have  been  their  vitality  half 
a  century  ago  ?  But  the  head  and  face  —  look  at  them. 
The  head  is  large  for  the  size  of  the  frame  which  it  sur- 
mounts, and  it  is  thickly,  aye,  abundantly  covered  with 
iron  gray  hair,  although,  our  life  on  it,  the  locks  have 
never  been  anointed  with  bear's  grease,  or  any  of  the 
thousand  and  one  hair  preservers  that  beaux  and  belles 
patronize.  This  hair  is  combed  from  the  forehead  and 
temples,  and  "running  toward  the  back  of  the  head,  it 
there  terminates  in  a  cluster  which  somewhat  resembles 
a  small  full-bottomed  wig  of  the  time  of  the  third 
George.  The  face  is  remarkably  striking.  A  queer 

5^  and  fanciful  book,  recently  published  by  Dr.  Redfield, 
which  treats  of  the  resemblances  between  thcTfacesTof 
men  and  those  of  animals,  gives  parallel  pictures  of  Dr. 
Beecher's  face  and  that  of  a  lion,  and  its  author  de- 
clares that  many  of  the  courageous,  magnanimous  and 
powerful  qualities  of  the  king  of  beasts  belong  to  the 
man.  Now,  although  I  cannot  see  much  resemblance 
between  the  physiognomies  of  the  brute  monarch  and 
the  Christian  minister,  I  willingly  concede  that  both 
have  in  common  great  power  and  considerable  influence. 

"X  The  ejes  are  of  light  Jxlue,'  with  a  grayish  tint.  The 
nose  is  large,  lo^jl^id  rather  prominent;  the  mouth 
wide,  and  markec^m  about  with  the  lines  of  decision. 
As  for  the  forehead,  it  is  high  and  broad.  The  com- 
plexion is  florid,  remarkably  so  for  a  man  who  has 
passed  his  three  score  and  ten  years,  and  the  whole  ex- 
pression is  that  of  a  man  of  vast  energy,  determination 


PEN-PICTURES.  155 

and  perseverance.     The  only  man  I  ever  saw  to  whom, 
in  point  of  personal  appearance,  he  bears  a  close  resem- 
blance, was  the  late  KowlaniLJIill,  and  in  the  constitu-  )  \ 
tion  of  his  mind,  also,  Dr.  Beecher  is  far  from  unlike  the  )  / 
venerable  English  Divine./.  "~ 

And  here,  as  |fe|  'Beecher  family  are  more  widely 
known  than  any  offer  family  assembly  in  these  United 
States,  I  must  be  excused  if  I  deviate  somewhat  from  my 
usual  custom,  for  the  purpose  of  furnishing  some  account 
of  the  antecedents  of  its  venerable  head,  partly  drawn 
from  his  own  account,  which  he  contributed  to  a  volume 
of  memoirs,  of  the  class  of  1797,  edited  by  Dr.  Mur- 
dock,  of  New  Haven,  and  partly  from  an  interesting  ar- 
ticle in  the  American  Phrenological  Journal. 

Lyman  Beecher  was  born  in  New  Haven,  Connecticut, 
Oct.  12,  1775,  and  is  consequently  seventy-eight  years 
of  age.  He  drew  his  first  breath  in  a  dwelling  which  is 
still  standing  in  New  Haven,  on  the  cprner  of  George 
and  College  streets.  Some  ancestral  traits  will  be  of  in- 
terest, at  least  to  those  curious  m  psychological  herald- 
ry. The  Beecher  blood  was  dashed  with  hypochondria. 
Dr.  Beecher  himself,  his  father,  and  his  grandfather, 
were,  in  early  life,  great  sufferers  from  that  cause.  But 
in  each  case,  it  was  confined  principally  to  early  life,  and 
wore  out  with  years,  leaving  a  serene,  and  cheerful  old 
age.  All  his  ancestors  were  devout  and  professedly  re- 
ligious men.  Dr.  Beecher's  great-grandmother  was  the 
daughter  of  a  full-blooded  Welsh  woman,  a  Roberts* 
Thus  the  blood  of  the  Beechers  received  a  happy  mix- 
ture of  Welsh  blood,  with  its  poetry  and  music,  and  its 


156  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:    OR, 

insatiable  and  intolerable  love  of  genealogy ;  for  no 
Welshman  ever  lived  who  had  not  a  clear  genealogical 
turnpike  opened  up  to  Adam's  very  front  dooryard. 

Dr.  Beecher's  own  mother  was  a  Lyman^  a  family 
whose  blood  was  joyous,  sparkling,  hopeful,  and  against 
all  rebuffs  and  disappointments,  ho^p  still.  He  was  a 
seven  months  child  and  extremely  feeble.  His  mother 
died  four  days  after  his  birth.  Her  sister,  Mrs.  Lot 
Benton,  of  'North  Guilford,  having  no  children  of  her 
own,  took  Lyman,  at  about  three  months  of  age,  and 
kept  him  in  her  family  until  he  was  fitted  for  college, 
which  was  about  his  eighteenth  year. 

Lot  Benton  was  a  thorough  original;  a  great,  kind 
heart:  hedged  about  at  times  with  the  affectation  of 
scolding  and  ill-humor,  but  never  was  he  reported,  and 
never  was  he  a  scolding,  ill-natured  man.  Whoever  ask- 
ed a  kindness  of  him  surely  got  it,  and  a  good  deal  more 
besides.  If  one  came  to  borrow  a  hoe,  "  why  don't  you 
have  hoes  of  your  own ;  what  do  you  hang  on  to  your 
neighbors  for  ?  Herdbcome  back ;  take  the  hoe,  will 
ye  ?  but  I  suppose  you  never  will  return  it,  you  will 
break  it,  I  guess."  On  one  occasion  Lyman  Beecher  was 
driving  an  ox  team  so  as  nearly  to  graze  a  plough  which 
lay  upon  the  ground.  "  There,  there,  Lyman,  you  have 
run  over  that  plough  and  broke  it  all  to  pieces."  "  Why, 
uncle  Lot,  I  haven't  touched  the  plough."  "  Well,  I'd 
a  great  deal  rather  you  had,  than  to  have  gone  so  near  it." 

The  following  story  is  told  of  young  Lyman  Beecher  : 

One  day  while  gathering  apples  in  an  orchard,  Uncle 
Lot  said,  "  Lyman,  should  you  like  to  go  to  college  ?" 


PEN-PICTURES.  157 

No  reply  was  made,  and  the  work  went  on.  The  next 
day,  as  they  were  busy  at  the  same  work,  Lyman  said, 
"  I  think  I  should  like  to  go  to  college."  Nothing  more 
was  said  on  either  side.  But  the  lad  was  forthwith  pre- 
pared for  studying.  Two  years  of  preparation  in  these 
days  sufficed  fomentering  college.  He  entered  Yale 
College  under  the  presidency  of  Dr.  Dwight,  in  Sep- 
tember, 1793,  at  the  age  of  eighteen. 

Those  who  know  the  Dr.  Beecher  of  to-day  will  easily 
believe  in  this  anecdote  of  him  in  his  student  days  : 

One  night  Mr.  Beecher  was  awakened  by  a  sound  at 
his  window,  as  if  some  one  were  drawing  cloth  through 
a  broken  pane  of  glass ;  springing  up,  he  dimly  saw  his 
clothes  disappearing  through  the  broken  window ;  a  thief 
having  taken  a  fancy  to  them.  Waiting  for  no  ceremo- 
nies of  toilet,  he  dashed  out  after  him.  The  rascal  drop- 
ped the  clothes  at  once,  and  put  himself  to  his  best  speed. 
But  Lyman  was  not  to  be  easily  out-run,  especially  when 
thus  stripped  to  the  race.  After  turning  several  corners, 
the  caitiff  was  seized  and  m^H|d  back  by  the  eager 
student.  He  ushered  him  inWus  room,  compelled  him 
to  lie  down  on  the  floor  by  the  side  of  his  bed  while  he, 
more  comfortably  ensconced  in  the  bed,  lay  the  night 
long  watching  him,  —  the  silence  being  broken  only  by 
an  occasional  "  lie  still,  sir" 

In  the  morning  the  culprit  was  taken  before  a  magis- 
trate, who  was  evidently  a  lineal  descendant  of  Justice 
Shallow.  The  magistrate,  after  hearing  the  particulars, 
asked  Mr.  Beecher  "  whether  in  turning  the  corners  he 
lost  sight  of  the  man  at  all."  He  replied  that  he  was 
14 

Vft 


158  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:    OR, 

out  of  sight  but  a  second,  for  he  was  close  upon  him. 
"  Ah,  well,  if  you  lost  sight  of  him  at  all,  then  you  can- 
not swear  to  his  identity,"  and  so  the  man  was  discharg- 
ed. Mr.  B.  met  the  fellow  several  times  afterward,  but 
could  never  catch  his  eye. 

Of  Dr.  Beecher's  earliest  marrijge  we  need  not 
speak.  His  first  six  children  were  born  at  East  Hamp- 
.ton,  L.  I.,  where  he  amused  himself  in  the  intervals  of 
labor  with  fishing  and  hunting.  He  then  removed  to 
Litchfield,  and  there,  he  says,  passed  the  most  laborious 
portion  of  his  life. 

It  was  while  at  Litchfield  that  Dr.  Beecher  recom- 
mended total  abstinence,  as  a  remedy  for  intemperance, 
earlier,  it  is  supposed,  than  any  other  one.  As  early  as 
1811,  the  General  Association  of  Connecticut,  had  ap- 
pointed a  committee  to  report  what  could  be  done  to  stay 
the  progress  of  intemperance.  That  report  was  made, 
and  after  lamenting  the  wide-spread  danger,  discourag- 
ingly  said,  that  there  seemed  to  be  no  remedy.  Dr. 
Beecher  immediately  ^Bred  that  a  committee  be  ap- 
pointed to  report  instanrer,  a  remedy  for  intemperance. 
He  was  made  chairman,  and  reported  resolutions,  recom- 
mending the  immediate  and  entire  abandonment  of  dis- 
tilled spirits  by  individuals  and  in  all  families  as  a  beve- 
rage, or  as  a  matter  of  courtesy,  or  as  an  adjunct  to  la- 
bor. The  resolution  was  carried,  and  this,  it  is  believed, 
was  the  first  step  taken  in  the  great  history  of  Total 
Abstinence. 

The  famous  six  sermons  upon  Intemperance  were  first 
written  and  preached  in  Litchfield.  A  very  dear  friend 


PEN-PICTURES.  159 

of  Dr.  Beecher,  living  about  four  miles  from  the  church, 
became  intemperate.  This  fact  moved  all  his  affection 
and  zeal.  The  six  sermons  were  born  of  a  heart  full  of 
love  and  grief,  and  although  this  did  not  save  the  man 
•whose  case  inspired  them,  they  have,  doubtless,  saved 
millions  of  others,  and  are  still  read  in  almost  every  lan- 
guage in  the  civilized  world. 

In  his  memoir  before  referred  to,  the  Doctor  touch- 
ingly  says :  — 

"  In  my  domestic  relations,  my  cup  of  mercy,  t 
not  unmingled  with  bitterness  in  the  death  of  two 
loved  wives,  two  infants,  and  an  adult  son  in  the  minis- 
try, has  nevertheless  been  filled  with  pure,  copious  and 
habitual  enjoyment,  especially  in  the  early  conversion 
of  my  children,  and  their  blessed  affection  for  me  and 
usefulness  in  the  Church  of  God." 

In  the  prime  of  Dr.  Beeeher's  life,  there  was,  it  is 
said,  in  his   discourses   and   speeches   "  an   admirable    . 
mingling   of  reasoning,  fact,  wit,  emotion  and  pathos.  <£ 
These  qualities  were  not  pre-arranged,  but  spontaneous ; 
they  were  not  in  the  sermon   so  prepared,  but  in  the 
heart  that  prepared  it." 

Thus  far  I  have  but  glanced  at  some  features  of  Dr. 
Lyman  Beecher's  past  history.  In  the  next  chapter  I 
shall  conclude  my  notice  of  him  by  a  sketch  of  a  laborer 
of  our  own  time. 


160  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  OR, 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

DR.      LYMAN      BEECHER,      CONTINUED.        ANECDOTES.        HIS 
TACT.       REMARKS    ON    HIS    STYLE. 

FROM  an  early  stage  of  Dr.  Beecher's  career,  he  was 
afflicted  with  an  irritable  stomach,  which,  at  some  periods, 
threatened  to  lay  him  aside  from  the  ministry.  And 
nothing  but  the  most  skilful  care  of  his  own  health,  ena- 
bled him,  through  a  long  life,  to  go  through  labors  which 
seem  almost  incredible.  At  East  Hampton,  on  Long 
Island,  he  was  familiar  with  every  bay  and  fishing  ground, 
and  with  every  cove  where  wild  fowl  resorted.  At  Litch- 
field,  Ct.,  he  resorted  to  the  soil,  without  forsaking  the 
rod  and  the  gun,  for  exercise  and  health.  In  Boston, 
he  rowed  in  the  harbor ;  sawed  his  own  wood  ;  brought 
home  his  marketing,  for  the  sake  of  the  exercise  of  car- 
rying a  basket.  Dr.  Beecher  became  quite  an  adept  in 
filing  and  setting  saws.  Much  of  his  studying  was  done 
over  his  saw,  or  with  file  in  hand.  On  one  such  occasion 
he  said,  "  The  way  to  write  easy  is  to  get  all  your  think- 
ing done  first,  and  then  let  the  hot  metal  out  into  the 
mould  of  your  plan,"  having  in  his  mind  the  idea  of  metal- 
casting.  When  the  weather  was  bad,  the  Doctor  resort- 
ed to  his  cellar,  where  several  loads  of  sand  were  stored, 
which  were  lustily  shovelled  from  one  side  of  the  cellar 


PEN-PICTURES.  161 

to  the  other  —  like  many  metaphysical  disputes  and  casu- 
istries —  sand  at  best,  and  by  discussion  only  changed  in 
place.  He  walked  quick,  worked  quick,  thought  quick, 
and  wrote  quick.  His  absorption  in  thought  gave  rise  to 
absgjtt-mindedness  and  to  forge tfulness,  frequently  to 
ludicrous  stories.  On  several  occasions  he  entered  his 
neighbors'  Jiouses^nJBo^ton^^^  Hundreds  of 

stories  related  of  the  Doctor  are  mere  fictions,  or  ascrip- 
tions to  him  of  things  belonging  to  other  men.  He  once 
said,  "  if  I  should  write  my  own  life,  the  first  volume 
should  contain  the  things  which  I  didjioljfo  and  did  not 
say"  Nevertheless,  not  a  few  are  authentic. 

In  a  trip  along  the  coast  of  Connecticut,  in  a  small 
craft,  for  his  health,  being  detained  by  baffling  winds,  it 
was  in  the  midst  of  church  service,  on  a  Sabbath  morn- 
ing, that  he  landed  at  a  village  where  only  the  clergy- 
man knew  him.  He  was  in  full  sea-rig.  His  entrance 
to  the  audience-room  attracted  no  attention.  But  when, 
during  the  prayer,  after  sermon,  he  walked  up  the  aisle, 
and  began  to  ascend  -the  pulpit  steps,  all  eyes  were  on 
him.  The  young  people  tittered,  and  the  tithing  men 
began  to  look  authoritative,  as  if  business  was  on  hand. 
The  officiating  clergyman,  at  the  close  of  his  prayer, 
cordially  shook  him  by  the  hand,  to  the  growing  surprise 
of  spectators,  —  not  lessened  by  the  Doctor's  rising  to 
make  some  u  additional  remarks."  "  When  I  began," 
we  once  heard  the  Doctor  say,  "  I  eould  see  all  the  good 
and  sober  people  looking  rather  grave  at  such  an  ap- 
pearance, while  all  the  young  people  winked  at  each 
other,  as  if  they  expected  some  sort.  But  it  was  not  long 
14 


162  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  OR, 

before  I  saw  the  old  folks  begin  to  look  up  and  smile, 
and  the  young  folks  to  look  sober."  If  any  one  has 
heard  Dr.  Beecher,  in  one  of  his  best  moods,  in  an  ex- 
temporaneous outburst,  they  can  well  imagine  with  what 
power  an  application  would  come  from  him,  and  how  the 
sudden  transitions  of  feeling,  and  the  strange  contrasts 
between  his  weather-beaten  appearance  and  Amman's 
garb,  and  his  impassioned  eloquence,  would  heighten  the 
effect.  When  he  concluded,  he  turned  to  the  pastor  and 
said :  "  How  could  you  have  such  a  grand  sermon  wifch- 
out  any  application ? "  "I  wrote  out  the  body  of  the 
sermon,  meaning  to  ^temporize  the  application,  but  after 
you  came  in  it  was  scared  out  of  my  head." 

The  finest  efforts  of  his  mind  are  not  in  his  writings, 
l   but  were  unexpectedly  thrown  out  in  the  inspiration  of 
v  speech,  or  in  conversation.     Many  apothegms  and  con- 
densed sentiments,  if  recorded,  would  become  popular 
proverbs. 

When  about  seventy-five  years  of  age,  he  spent  a 
fortnight  in  the  eastern  part  of  Maine.  A  party  of 
gentlemen,  at  Calais,  went  with  him,  some  thirty  miles 
up  a  series  of  lakes  to  Indian  territories.  When  about 
to  embark  upon  a  chain  of  lakes  in  the  birch  canoes,  the 
Indian  guide,  ^tienne,  rathe?  objected  to  so  old  a  man 
attempting  the  adventure,  fearing  that  he  would  give 
out.  The  Doctor  rowed  with  the  best  of  the  young- 
sters;  caught  more  trout  than  all  the  party  together, 
and  returned  each  day  from  the  various  tramps,  in  the 
lead  ;  ate  his  fish  on  a  rock,  with  a  sea-biscuit  for  a 
trencher,  and  fingers  for  knives  and  forks ;  slept  on  the 


PEN-PICTURES.  163 

ground  upon  hemlock  branches  under  the  tent,  and,  at 
length,  the  Indian  guide  went  from  the  extreme  of  de- 
preciation to  the  highest  expression  of  admiration  in  his 
power,  saying,  "  Ah !  old  man,  all  Indian  ! " 

While  residing  on  Long  Island,  in  early  life,  he  was 
returni^Bhome  just  at  evening  from  a  visit  to  old  Dr. 
WoolweraP;  —  seeing  what  he  thought,  in  the  dark,  to 
be  a  rabbit  by  the  road-side,  a  little  ahead,  he  reasoned 
with  himself:  "They  are  rather  tender  animals  —  if 
the  fellow  sits  still  till  I  come  up,  I  think  I  could  hit 
him  with  these  books,"  a  goodly  bundle  of  which  he  had 
in  his  handkerchief.  Hit  him,  he  surely  did ;  only  it 
proved  to  be  not  a  rabbit,  but  a  skunk.  The  logical  con- 
sequences followed,  and  he  returned  to  his  family  in 
anything  but  the  odor  of  sanctity.  In  after  life,  being 
asked  why  he  did  not  reply  to  a  scurrilous  attack  which 
had  been  made  upon  him,  the  Doctor  answered :  "  I  dis-Nj\ 
charged  a  quarto,  once,  at  a  skunk  —  and  I  then  made 
up  my  mind  never  to  try  it  again." 

During  the  prevalence  of  a  revival  in  his  church,  in 
Boston,  the  number  of  persons  desiring  religious  conver- 
sation was  so  great,  sometimes  amounting  to  several 
hundreds,  that  he  was  accustomed  to  employ  younger 
clergymen  to  assist  him.  %,  On  one  occasion  f.  young 
Andoverian  was  conversing  with  a  person  who  believed 
herself  to  be  converted,  wifBh  the  Doctor'^hearing. 
The  young  man  was  probing  the  grounds  of  her  evi- 
dence, and  among  other  questions,  was  overheard-asking 
the  lady  if  she  "  thought  that  she  was  willing  to  be 
damned  for  the  glory  of  God."  Instantly  starting  up, 


164 


the  Doctor  said  to  him  :  "  What  was  that  you  were  ask- 
ing ? "  "I  was  asking  her  if  she  should  be  willing  to 
be  damned  for  the  glory  of  God."  "  Well,  sir,  would 
you  be  willing  ?  "  "  Yes,  sir,  I  humbly  hope  I  should 
be."  "  Well,  then,  sir,  you  ought  to  be  damned,'!  And, 
afterwards,  he  took  occasion  to  enlighten  him  to£l  better 
theology. 

Anecdotes  and  incidents  of  this  kind  might  be  multi- 
plied ad  infinitum,  but  they  would  be  more  in  place  in  a 
regular  biography,  than  in  a  mere  outline  sketch,  such 
as  this  professes  to  be.  So  quitting  reminiscent  mate- 
rial, let  me  come  to  the  man  of  to-day  —  to  the  Lyman 
Beecher  of  eighteen  hundred  and  fifty-three. 

And  by  chance  we  behold  him  as  he  is  threading  his 
way  through  the  bustle  of  Washington  street.  There 
he  goes  sturdily  along,  scorning  the  aid  of  walking  stick 
or  umbrella;  curious  people  now  and  then  turning  to 
throw  a  glance  at  his  hale,  hearty-looking  face,  and  gray 
hairs.  "  That 's  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe's  father,"  says 
one.  "  There  goes  the  father  of  Henry  Ward  Beecher," 
remarks  another.  "  That  is  the  man  who  wrote  the 
4  Six  Short  Sermons,'"  murmurs  a  third,  and  so  on  he 
goes,  noticed  by  many,  seeming  to  notice  none.  You 
see  now  •that  his  eye  is  not  *  dim,  and  that  his  natural 
force  is  not  much  abated,  Chough  seventy-eight  summer 
suns,  an<^he  same  numb^Pof  wintry  snows,  have  shone 
upon  and  drifted  around  that  venerable  head.  Neither 
have  his  mental  energies  greatly  diminished. 

To  see  Dr.  Beecher  to  advantage  out  of  the  pulpit  we 
should  notice  him  at  a  meeting  of  one  of  the  many 


PEN-PICTURES.  165 

committees  of  which  he  is  a  member  —  supposing  a  diffi- 
culty should  have  occurred.  Dr.  Beecher  intuitively 
sees  where  that  difficulty  lies,  and  his  strong  energetic 
mind  grapples  with  it  at  once.  By  a  few  brief  words  he 
disentangles  the  thread  of  the  subject,  makes  it  as  clear 
as  dayligfit,  and  deprives  it  in  an  instant  of  all  its  diffi- 
culty. There  has  been  no  waste  of  words,  no  hesitation, 
but  action.  It  is  Columbus  setting  the  egg  on  its  end 
over  again,  and  as  the  companions  of  the  illustrious 
Genoese  stared  at  each  other  in  stupid  wonder  at  the 
simplicity  of  the  operation,  so  perhaps  the  committee 
marvel  that  they  never  saw  the  subject  from  the  Doctor's 
point  of  view  before.  It  is  this  practical  talent  which 
makes  Dr.  Beecher  so  valuable  in  working  out  moral  re- 
forms. His  strong  common  sense,  his  astuteness  and  his 
great  sagacity,  stand  him  in  better  stead  than  the  em- 
bellishments of  poetry,  or  the  graces  of  rhetoric. 
Above  all,  his  principles  are  uncompromising.  Fearless 
of  opposition,  he  only  studies  what  is  right,  and  the  right 
he  struggles  for  manfully.  And  yet  there  is  no  assump- 
tion of  superiority,  although  he  speaks  as  one  whose 
long  experience  entitles  him  to  be  considered  an  au- 
thority. 

We  have  intimated  that  the  sayings  of  Dr.  Beecher  are 
frequently  very  quaint.  For  instance,  when  preaching  once 
on  justification  by  works,  he  remarked :  "  If  I  kill  a  man 
to-day,  and  save  a  man  from  drowning  to-morrow,  will 
the  saving  the  one  do  away  with  the  guilt  of  killing  the 
other  ?"  Again,  "  God  will  not  keep  those  who  do  not 
strive  to  keep  themselves.  The  devil  keeps  those  who 


166  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  OR, 

serve  him.  Cannot  God  keep  those  who  serve  him  ?  " 
And  he  asks  in  another  discourse :  "  Why  hang  your 
hopes  on  a  spider's  thread,  when  you  have  a  cable?" 
And  when  speaking  of  the  doctrine  of  restitution,  he 
asks :  "  Why  go  to  school  in  hell  to  be  fitted  for 
heaven?"  We  might  adduce  many  such  South-like 
passages,  but  enough  has  been  quoted. 

But  not  only  is  Dr.  Beecher  quaint  as  a  preacher ;  he 
does  not  dislike  the  weapons  of^wityand  occasional  sat- 
ire, and  he  can  avail  himself  of  both  with  terrible  power. 
When  rumsellers  are  his  adversaries,  he  is  a  fearful  hand, 
a  very  Sioux  at  skinning  them  —  always  is  he  willing  to 
scalp  the  antagonist  to  his  views  on  moral  and  religious 
truth,  either  on  the  platform  or  from  the  press.  This  is 
his  forte,  a  power  to  skin  an  error  and  lay  it  bare  to  a 
popular  mind  and  audience.  He  does  not  descend  to  the 
nicer  shades  of  metaphysic  distinction,  although  all  his 
published  works  show  a  power  to  do  so.  He  stands  by 
and  upon  the  eternal  principles  and  distinctions  between 
right  and  wrong.  He  never  passes  out  of  sight  of  his 
audience,  and  therefore  to  them  his  logic  appears  to  de- 
scend upon  his  adversary  with  crushing  force.  His  hap- 
less opponent  is  like  an  unfortunate  being  strapped  and 
bound  to  a  revolving  wheel,  lanced  by  some  cruel  instru- 
ment ;  for,  as  with  most  men  of  Dr.  Beecher's  order  of 
mind,  satire  and  logic  are  one.  Many  an  effort  has  been 
made  to  crush  him,  but  as  some  enemy  once  said  of 
him  to  a  lady :  "  The  worst  of  it  is,  you  see,  madam,  we 
can  bring  nothing  against  him.  If  we  had  but  some- 
thing we  could  crush  him  directly."  The  worst  indeed ! 


PEN-PICTURES.  167 

I 

But  on  the  contrary,  a  character  known,  enthusiastic, 
genuine,  a  character  always  identified  with  love  to  the 
people  and  efforts  for  their  salvation  and  benefit. 

Is  it  any  wonder  tbfcn  that  the  man  always  has  had 
and  still  has  great  power  over  the  minds  of  his  audi- 
ences ?  Figure  him,  as  he  stands  in  the  pulpit,  or  on 
the  platform,  a  human  rock,  if  you  attempt  to  move  him ; 
a  man  who  will  smile  at  all  opposing  clamor,  a  man 
whom  opposition  affects  as  much  as  petrifying  water  af- 
fects a  stone,  clothing  and  casing  in  more  determined 
resolution.  An  eye  blue  as  Jane  sky,  a  complexion 
full  of  the  Saxon  temperament,  a  mouth  compressed 
and  full  of  meaning.  A  terrible  opponent  this  where 
all  these  varieties  blend  to  make  the  character  —  invul- 
nerable. 

I  may  well  call  the  subject  of  my  present  sketch  the 
man  of  action,  for  to  the  pulpit  and  the  platform  his  en- 
ergies are  not  confined. 

The  press  is  another  world  in  which  he  has  moved  and 
spoken  well  and  efficiently  throughout  Great  Britain,  as 
well  as  America.  He  is  well  known  by  the  "  Six  Short 
Sermons "  and  by  other  works  needless  to  name  here. 
All  his  works  abound  in  the  same  plain  and  forcible  elo- 
quence that  makes  him  famous  among  modern  speakers. 
A  man  of  action,  I  said,  preeminently  a  man  of  action  ; 
a  man  who  must  be  doing,  and  who  sees  instantly  through 
the  meaning  of  the  thing  to  be  done.  In  brief,  he  may 
be  generalized  beneath  one  characterization ;  he  strikes 
all  who  see  and  hear  him,  as  eminently  real ;  a  man 
abominating,  fastidiously  abominating  all  show.  All  his 


168  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:    OR, 

faults  are  the  faults  of  an  earnest  man.  He  has,  per- 
haps, no  sympathy  with  little  sorrows.  Like  Dr.  John- 
son, he  would,  perhaps,  be  able  to  expend  no  tears  on 
the  widowed  griefs  of  a  fashionable  lady,  if  a  poor  wo- 
man left  destitute  with  half  a  dozen  children  claimed  his 
attention.  He  has  struggled  so  heartily  with  the  world's 
difficulties  himself,  has  so  made  those  difficulties  of  life 
to  retire  before  him  that  he  cannot  feel  that  poverty  is 
the  chief  ill  to  any  man.  He  leads  so  almost  stoical  an 
existence  as  far  as  world-comforts  go,  that  it  is  not  won- 
derful if  he  should  cherish  a  true  Diogenian  contempt 
for  all  mournings  and  bewailings  over  the  loss  of  them ; 
and  some  of  those  who  see  this  in  the  distance,  are  apt 
to  suppose  a  hard  man,  until  a  nearer  view  reveals  an 
eye  not  so  full  of  sternness  as  tenderness,  a  tongue  gentle 
to  every  modulation  of  expression,  and  a  heart  an  over- 
flowing fountain  of  generous  impulses,  nor  perhaps,  alto- 
gether cut  off  from  the  reservoir  of  tears. 

Although  Dr.  Eeecher  has  arrived  at  that  period  of 
life,  when,  did  he  consult  his  own  ease  alone,  he  might 
feel  himself  entitled  to  indulge  in  well-earned  repose,  he 
scorns  such,  to  him,  "  inglorious  ease,"  and,  not  abating 
"  one  jot  of  heart  and  hope,"  still  labors  on,  zealously 
and  effectively,  for  the  good  of  mankind.  His  name  is, 
and  forever  will  be  linked  with  the  great  cause  of  tem- 
perance, just  as  Washington's  is  associated  with  the  de- 
liverance of  his  country,  or  Franklin's  with  the  discovery 
of  the  identity  of  lightning  and  electricity.  And 
though,  to  slightly  alter  the  language  of  Foster,  in  the 
coming  time,  new  and  brilliant  stars  may  appear  in  the 


PEN-PICTURES.  169 

firmament  of  this  great  moral  reform,  all  eyes  will  pen- 
sively, involuntarily  turn  to  the  lingering  light  on  the 
horizon,  when  the  greater  luminary  shall  have  disap- 
peared. But  long  may  it  be  ere  it  shall  be  said  of  our 
venerable  teacher,  as  of  others :  — 


Gone  !  are  they  gone  who  brightly  shone  ! 

Oh  I  gloomy,  chilly  night  ? 
Now  left  alone,  we  deeply  moan 

Their  much  lamented  light. 
The  prophets,  too  !  the  prophets  too ! 

Why  do  they  cease  to  cry  ? 
Will  not  kind  Heaven  the  lamp  renew  ? 

Must,  too,  the  prophets  die  ? 


CHAPTER   XV. 

JOHN  OVERTON  CHOULES,  D.  D.  EARLY  RECOLLECTIONS. 
A  LIBRARY  TALK.  THE  CHURCH  AT  NEWPORT.  GENE- 
RAL REMARKS. 

IT  must  be  now  over  thirty  years  since,  when  at  a 
"  Debating  and  Literary  Society"  in  the  ancient  city  of 
Bristol,  to  which,  as  a  great  favor  I  was  admitted,  why 
or  wherefore,  I  now  know  not,  for  at  the  "  Debates"  I 
fancy  I  must  have  much  resembled  a  bewildered  baby. 
15 


170  PULPIT   PORTPvAITS:    OR, 

I  say,  it  must  have  been  thrice  ten  years  since  that  I 
first  saw  the  gentleman  whose  name  will  be  found  at  the 
head  of  this  chapter.  I  had  not,  at  that  time,  completed 
my  "  schooling,"  and  he  wras  a  student  in  the  Bristol 
Baptist  Academy,  of  which  the  well-known  Dr.  Ryland 
was  Principal ;  and  I  very  well  remember  that  among 
the  sturdiest  and  most  successful  of  the  Debaters  who 
were,  for  the  most  part  young  gentlemen  with  more 
ardor  than  judgment,  and  who  struggled  rather  for  the 
glory  of  victory  than  for  the  sake  of  truths,  was  a  youth 
named  Choules.  The  debates  were  varied  by  lectures 
on  various  branches  of  science,  and  for  me  these  pos- 
sessed a  greater  and  far  more  abiding  interest.  Should 
the  eyes  of  the  subject  of  my  sketch  ever  rest  on  this 
page,  it  will  doubtless  recall  those  early  days,  when  such 
as  Withers,  Guppy,  and  himself  disputed ;  and  when 
men  like  Millard  lectured  on"  his  favorite  science  of  En- 
tomology. That  eccentric  old  gentleman  has  long  since 
gone  to  where  the  insects  he  used  to  talk  about  have 
by  this  time  made  a  closer  acquaintance  with  his  frame- 
work, than  he  ever  did  with  the  bodies  of  their  ances- 
tors. But  I  fancy  I  am  shooting  wide  of  my  mark,  and 
so  let  me  come  back  to  my  immediate  topic. 

The  days  of  school  passed  by;  I  no  longer  had 
the  opportunities  of  visiting  the  "Inquirer  Society"  as 
it  was  called,  and  consequently  saw  no  more  of  the 
Academy  student.  Indeed  he  had  entirely  passed  from 
my  recollection  ;  the  great  waves  of  youthful  occupation 
in  Surgery,  Hospital,  and  Dissecting  room  having  washed 
from  the  shifting  sands  of  the  beach  of  memory  all 


PEN-PICTURES.  171 

traces  of  what  had  been  inscribed  thereupon.  But  fif- 
teen or  twenty  years  after,  like  one  of  Mr.  Wilkin  Mi- 
cawber's  opportunities,  the  Divinity  Student  turned  up 
again ;  and,  as  is  usual  in  such  cases,  when  and  where 
he  was  least  expected. 

In  the  year  1844  or  5,  I  forget  which,  exactly,  I  was 
dining  at  the  hospitable  table  of  Thomas  Colley  Grattan, 
Esq.,  at  that  period  Her  Britannic  Majesty's  Consul  at 
the  Port  of  Boston,  in  company  with  Mr.  N.  P.  Willis, 
Madame  Calderon  de  Ja  Barca,  and  some  other  well- 
known  writers ;  the  host  himself  being  among  the  most 
distinguished,  when,  dinner  being  half  over,  a  new  comer 
was  announced.  Evidently  he  was  a  privileged  friend 
of  the  family,  for  his  arrival  only  caused  a  slight  stir, 
and  a  pleasant  excitement,  in  the  midst  of  which  there 
came  into  the  dining-room  a  gentleman  dressed  in  cleri- 
cal attire,  with  a  short,  stot,  comfortable  frame  of 
body,  and  apparently,  a  frame  of  mind  to  suit,  for  he 
possessed  one  of  the  most  genial  and  good  humored 
faces,  blent  with  a  certain  shrewdness  withal,  that  I  ever 
remember  to  have  looked  upon.  I  saw  at  once  that  he 
was  a  brother  Englishman,  and  if  there  had  been  in  my 
mind  any  doubt  whatever  on  that  point,  the  first  "  Bris- 
tolian"  tones  he  uttered  would  have  dispelled  it  in  an 
instant. 

It  seemed  that  I  too,  as  an  Englishman,  had  not  been 
unrecognized,  for  on  occasionally  looking  at  the  gentleman 
in  black,  I  perceived  that  his  sharp,  keen  eye  glanced 
curiously  over  his  gold  spectacles  at  me,  as  if  to  make 
out  who  and  what  I  was.  A  chance  word  or  two  drop- 


172  PULPIT  PORTRAITS  :    OR, 

ped  in  the  course  of  conversation  revealed  the  fact  thak 
we  were  each  of  us  natives  of  the  same  city  in  England, 
and  more  than  this,  in  certain  "  Pen  and  Ink  Sketches" 
which  I  was  at  that  time  publishing  in  the  Boston  Atlas , 
I  had  mentioned  the  names  of  several  persons,  John 
Foster,  Robert  Hall,  and  others,  with  whom  he  had  been 
on  terms  of  personal  intimacy.  Under  such  circum- 
stances it  is  not  at  all  remarkable  that  an  intimacy 
should  speedily  have  been  established,  for  when  natives 
of  the  same  land  meet  casually  on  a  foreign  soil,  the 
frigid  barriers  of  etiquette  are  soon  thawed  down.  Espe- 
cially must  such  be  the  case  when  men  like  him  of  whom 
I  am  writing  are  concerned,  for  I  know  of  no  man  who 
possesses  more  companionable  qualities,  or  whose  breast 
contains  a  heart  more  alive  to  all  the  finer  instincts  of 
humanity.  Even  now,  as  /  write  this,  and  while  lie  is 
far  away  somewhere,  in  Commodore  Vanderbilt's  Yacht, 
I  cannot  help  thinking  that  he  may  probably  be  taking  a 
genial  cigar  with  some  friendly  Turk  in  his  Kiosk,  over- 
looking the  Golden  Horn,  and  drinking  sherbet  in  a 
quite  at  home  sort  of  way ;  or  probably,  (for  he  never 
goes  anywhere  where  he  does  not  pick  up  a  protege  or 
an  old  acquaintance,)  he  may  in  the  exercise  of  his 
clerical  duties  be  baptizing  some  dearly  beloved  brother, 
a  convert  perhaps,  in  the  Bosphorus. 

Doctor  J.  0.  Choules  was,  at  the  time  I  speak  of,  minis- 
ter over  a  church  and  congregation  at  Jamaica  Plains, 
and  there  I  frequently  had  the  pleasure  and  the  privilege 
of  hearing  him  preach.  Since  then  I  have  heard  him 
discourse  in  some  of  the  chief  London  pulpits,  where 


PEN-PICTURES.  173 

he  was  always  very  popular  ;  •  and  the  last  time  I  was 
present  was  when  he  preached  in  England,  in  his  native 
city  to  a  crowded  congregation,  which  to  him  must  have 
been  an  intensely  interesting  one,  inasmuch  as  amongst 
it  were  many  of  his  early  friends  and  associates. 

But  the  best  opportunities  I  ever  had  of  hearing  and 
judging  of  Dr.  Choules's  pulpit  talents  was  in  his  own 
church  in  Newport,  Rhode  Island,  where  he  still  holds  a 
pastorate.  Suppose  reader  we  travel  thither,  in  imagi- 
nation, and  call  ui^Rbt "  friend  of  other  days,"  for  we 
desire  to  introducM  ^B  the  man  as  well  as  to  the  min- 
ister. Unfortunater^ro  us,  he  is  at  this  moment  from 
home,  most  probably  engaged  in  some  parochial  duties, 
but  we  meet  a  hearty  welcome,  and  being  privileged,  are 
installed  in  the  Library.  And  be  it  known  that  it  is  a 
library  worthy  the  name,  Dr.  Choules  being  a  book  lover 
of  the  first  degree. 

Charles  Lamb,  in  one  of  his  fascinating  essays,  says : 
"  I  dream  away  my  life  in  others'  speculations.  I  love 
to  lose  myself  in  other  men's  minds.  When  I  am  not 
walking,  I  am  reading  ;  I  cannot  sit  and  think.  Books 
think  for  me." 

I  am,  just  at  this  moment,  much  inclined  to  dream 
away  an  hour  or  two  in  others'  speculations  also.  It  is  a 
dark,  stormy  evening  without ;  the  driving,  dashing  rain 
patters  against  the  windows,  and  the  wind  makes  mourn- 
ful music  among  the  elm-boughs  without.  But  within, 
all  is  light  and  peace.  The  ruddy  blaze  leaps  up,  and 
golden  vistas,  and  glittering  caverns,  and  fiery  dragons 
gleam  in  the  glowing  coals.  On  the  table  stands  one  of 
15* 


174  PULFIT  PORTRAITS:  OR, 

those  green-shaded  lamps  which  studious  men  love,  and 
all  around  us  are  books. 

Books  from  the  floor  to  the  ceiling ;  books  on  shelves 
over  doors ;  books  in  niches ;  books  on  the  Oxford  read- 
ing-table ;  books  on  the  bureau-cover ;  books  on  the 
sofa ;  books  on  the  floor,  and  heaped  up  confusedly  in 
corners ;  books  on  the  mantle-piece ;  books,  indeed, 
wherever  one  can  be  conveniently  or  inconveniently  put. 
Next  the  floor  are  stately  old  folios,  some  in  ancient  ver- 
itable boards,  with  huge  ridgejjjfcjjieir  broad  backs, 
brazen  hasps  on  their  covers,^M  Home  rare  ones,  to 
which  are  attached  links  of  the  I^R^n  chain  which  once 
confined  them  to  the  shelves  of  some  suspicious  old 
library.  Over  these  are  the  quartos  ;  then  comes  a  row 
of  octavos ;  and  the  higher  we  go  the  less  bulky  are  the 
tomes.  But  whether  they  be  big  or  little,  thick  or  thin, 
ancient  or  modern,  we,  like  Southey,  hail  them  as  "  never- 
failing  friends,"  and  claim  boon  companionship  with  each 
and  all. 

How  luxurious !  A  quiet  evening,  a  heart  at  peace 
with  all  the  world,  and  for  our  companions  the  embodied 
thoughts  of  the  great  and  wise  of  all  times.  As  I  sit 
in  my  easy  chair,  I  can,  by  my  "  so  potent  power,"  sum- 
mon around  me  a  glorious  company  of  immortals,  and 
become  in  a  certain  sense  a  necromancer,  since,  in  their 
works,  I  hold  converse  with  and  take  counsel  of  the 
dead.  Pleasantest  of  superstitions  this !  Surrounded 
by  books,  I  ask  for  no  other  associates ;  even  the  pres- 
ence of  the  dearest  friend  just  now  would  be  an  intrusion 
on  my  vojceful  yet  speechless  solitude. 


PEN-PICTURES.  175 

The  library  in  which  I  now  sit  is  just  such  an  one  as  I 
am  sure  Elia  would  have  rejoiced  to  be  imprisoned  in. 
It  belongs  to  one  whose  eyes  twinkle  at  the  sight  of 
black-letter,  and  who  regards  with  reverence  a  "  scarce 
copy."  An  Elzivir  to  him  is  a  more  excellent  thing  than 
the  gaudiest  gilded  thing  that  ever  issued  from  fashionable 
publisher's  shelf.  Yet  hath  he  a  love,  too,  for  choice 
modern  literature  ;  and  dainty  poetry  delighteth  him.  I 
mean  not  so  much  Tennysonian  jingle  as  the  solid  stuff 
of  such  as  Dryden^a^Ben  Jonson,  and  Marlowe,  and 
such  like  true  poel^^^n  whose  sterling  literary  coin 
had  the  ring  as  well  as  the  shine.  Well,  such  a  library 
as  such  a  book-lover  could  collect  with  infinite  pains  is, 
during  a  life-time,  a  pro  tempore  mine,  and  it  is  just  such 
an  one  to  enjoy ;  for  although  national  collections  of 
books  are  invaluable,  one  cannot  be  said  to  luxuriate  in 
them  as  we  do  in  a  snug,  well-assorted  chamber  of 
learning.  For  my  part  I  never  could  read  to  advantage 
in  big  halls  lined  with  learning.  A  Brobdignagian  Bod- 
leian is  well  enough  to  sit  and  quote  in ;  but  for  enjoya- 
bility,  commend  me  to  a  silent  snuggery  like  this. 

So  wrapped  up  am  I  in  "  measureless  content,"  that  I 
fancy,  if  the  cricket  chirping  on  the  hearth  were  to  be- 
come a  visible  fairy,  and  offer  me  a  crown,  I  do  not 
think  I  would  accept  the  offer.  I  do  not  sigh  for  great- 
ness of  that  kind,  but  kings  have  sighed  for  learned  re- 
pose. Stay :  here  in  this  splendid  fourth  edition  of 
Burton's  "  Anatomy  of  Melancholy,"  which  I  handle 
lovingly,  we  read  that  "  King  James,  in  1605,  when  he 
came  to  see  our  University  of  Oxford,  and,  amongst 


176  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:    OR, 

other  edifices,  now  went  to  view  that  famous  library,  re- 
newed by  Sir  Thomas  Bodley,  in  imitation  of  Alexander, 
at  his  departure  brake  out  into  that  noble  speech  :  <  If  I 
were  not  a  King,  I  could  be  an  University  man  ;  and  if 
it  were  so  that  I  was  a  prisoner,  if  I  might  have  my  wish, 
I  would  desire  to  have  no  other  prison  than  that  library, 
and  to  be  chained  together  with  so  many  good  authors.' " 
Had  his  Majesty  been  blessed  with  such  company,  he 
would  have  fared  far  better  than  among  the  courtiers 
who  surrounded  him.  ^^ 

The  library  I  am  now  pleass^^Pprisoned  in  is  pecu- 
liarly rich  in  works  on  theology.  But  these  do  not 
crowd  out  history,  or  biography,  or  science,  or  learning 
indeed  of  any  sort.  As  I  sit,  I  see,  pr  seem  to  see, 
looking  out  from  the  backs  of  the  books,  the  spirits  of 
Shakspeare,  Cervantes,  Milton,  Jeremy  Taylor,  Bunyan, 
De  Foe,  and  hosts  of  other  bookmen.  As  the  fire  flashes 
now  and  then,  the  books  seem  endued  with  vitality,  and, 
with  eyes  half  closed  and  dreaming,  I  regard  them  as 
actual  living  things,  as  brains  Pythagorized  into  books. 

And  how  strange  it  is  to  observe  the  company  in  which 
some  of  these  books  find  themselves !  Just  opposite  is 
Hannah  More  cheek-by-jowl  with  Albert  Smith's  "  Bal- 
let Girl ;"  and  Mrs.  Opie  is  as  close  as  close  can  be  to 
the  same  sprightly  author's  "  Gent."  Lord  Byron  is 
leaning  familiarly  on  Sou  they,  apparently  enjoying  his 
"Table-Talk;"  and  Jeremy  Taylor,  in  a  falling  posi- 
tion, is  supported  by  an  original  Joe  Miller.  The  au- 
thor of  "  Paradise  Lost"  has  got  close  to  Robert  Mont- 
gomery's "  Satan;"  and  Henry  Smith,  the  silver- 


PEN-PICTURES.  177 

tongued  preacher  of  Elizabeth's  time,  is  nearly  crushed 
by  "Five  Hundred  Skeletons. of  Sermons"  and  twenty- 
three  bulky  "  Pulpits."  The  fiercest  polemics  and  the 
meekest  Christians,  lamb-and-lign-like,  stand  harmoni- 
ously on  one  shelf;  reviewers  IHr  victims  placidly  sur- 
vey each  other  from  opposite  corners ;  High  Churchmen 
and  Low  Churchmen  join  in  goodly  rows ;  Bonner  and 
Cranmer  dwell  together  in  unity;  William  Penn  and 
Napoleon  Bonaparte  are  almost  arfc-in-arm ;  Cromwell 
and  Charles  are  at  peace  ;  and  Lord  Chief  Justice  Jef- 
feries  seems  greatly^  enjoy  the  society  of  his  many 
victims.  Here  kings  meet  their  subjects  without  eti- 
quette, and  Alfred  the  Great  and  Bamfylde  Moore 
Carew  tell  each  other  their  widely  different  stories; 
Nelson  and  Fighting  Fitzgerald  fight  their  battles  o'er 
again;  and  GEORGE  WASHINGTON,  in  close  contiguity 
to  George  the  Third,  appears  to  be  on  the  best  of  terms 
with  that  stubborn  old  gentleman. 

I  have,  almost  at  random,  selected  a  book  which  lies 
within  my  arm's  reach  ;  and  lo  !  here  are  some  thoughts 
about  books,  which,  had  I  read  them  before,  would  have 
saved  me  from  the  above  speculations.  And  by  whom 
is  this  following  written  ?  Why,  by  none  other  than  the 
owner  of  this  very  library.  Hear  what  he  says,  and  if 
you  do  not  admire  its  book-loving  spirit,  I  pray  you  pro- 
ceed no  farther  in  my  company.  "  I  never,"  writes  my 
friend,  "  enter  a  library  without  a  feeling  of  reverence 
for  the  company  in  which  I  am  placed.  I  regard  a  vol- 
ume as  the  very  spirit  of  its  author,  the  actual  being  of 
the  man  who  thought  it,  wrote  it,  left  it,  and  sent  it  forth 


178  PULPIT  PORTRAITS  :    OR, 

for  all  its  purposes  of  might  and  mercy. "  And  again : 
"  What  strange  reflections  rush  upon  the  mind  of  a 
thinking  man  when  he  gazes  upon  the  shelves  of  a  richly- 
stored  library!  For  J^tance,  what  queer  juxtaposition 
will  authors  find  upo^Wbles  and  shelves !  Men  who 
in  life  were  sadly  hostile  and  divided  in  judgment  and 
affection,  here  sit  down  side  by  side.  The  lion  and  the 
lamb,  the  vulture  and  the  dove,  keep  quiet  company.  I 
am  now  gazing  upon  Featley's  "Dippers  Dipt"  and 
Paget's  "  Heresiography  "  on  a  t^rie,  while  directly  over 
them  I  see  Keach  and  Kiffin,  TOTDS  and  the  venerable 
Jesse.  These  men  wrote  and  controverted  for  all  com- 
ing ages ;  and  yet,  no  doubt,  they  are  all  happy  and 
united  in  fraternal  love  in  that  heaven  where  the  spirits 
of  just  men  made  perfect  are  delivered  from  error,  pre- 
judice, and  rancor.  There,  on  that  shelf,  is  that  glori- 
ous folio,  "  Reliquiae  Baxterianae,"  and  a  few  niches  off, 
the  "  Bloody  Assizes"  and  the  life  of  that  arrant  scoun- 
drel, George,  Lord  Jefferies,  the  supple  tool  of  all  the 
cruelties  of  James  the  Second.  Lloyd's  "  Worthies  of 
Charles  the  First's  Eeign"  are  cheek-by-jowl  with  Lord 
Nugent's  capital  "  Life  of  John  Hampden"  and  Foster's 
"  Lives  of  the  Statesmen  of  the  Commonwealth."  Then 
some  books  seem  to  get  together  by  the  principle  of 
elective  affinity.  Dr.  Chalmers's  works  will  keep  close 
by  Andrew  Fuller,  and  Jay's  Sermons  will  be  found  very 
near  to  old  Jeremiah  Burroughs." 

Mark,  gentle  reader,  how  delicate,  yet  how  sharp,  is 
the  satire  in  this  presumed  companionship  of  Chalmers 
and  Fuller,  and  Jay  and  Burroughs;  for  students  well 


PEN-PICTURES.  179 

enough  know  that  the  Scotch  divine  was  not  a  little  in- 
debted for  some  of  his  best  things  to  the  sturdy  Baptist, 
and  that  Burroughs's  works  form,  in  many  instances,  the 
staple  of  William  JayWlis 

Go  into  puHtc  or  priv^B  ^^f  cs,  reader,  and  in 
ninety-nine  cases  out  of  a  nfl  R"011  w^  find  a 
proportion  of  learned  rubbig^^Such  is  not  the  case 
here.  Of  such  literary  lumber  this  library  is  swept 
and  garnished.  Let  me,  Jack  Horfter-like,  select  a  few 
"  plums."  & 

Here  is  a  treasure-House  of  sweets,  a  mine  all  spark- 
ling with  precious  stones ;  and  yet  homely-enough-looking 
is  the  casket  which  enshrines  the  gems,  like  the  rough 
jerkin  which  frequently  covers  a  noble  heart.  It  is  the 
bulky  tome  of  Adams,  who  was  at  once  the  philosopher, 
poet,  and  orator  of  the  Church.  Take  William  Shak- 
speare,  Jeremy  Taylor,  and  Robert  Hall,  string  their 
separate  beauties,  pearl-like,  on  a  golden  thread,  and 
then  you  will  have  something  like  a  conception  of  the 
glowing  style  of  Thomas  Adams. 

Another  ancient  volume  attracts  our  itching  fingers. 
Not  long  had  the  printing-press  been  at  work  in  the  old 
times  when  these  black-letter  pages  first  came  into  the 
world,  bearing  their  treasures  with  them.  A  noble 
specimen  of  ancient  typography  this :  broad  margins, 
solid-looking  columns,  and  red  initial  letters.  Hundreds 
of  years  have  passed  since  the  rude  press  stamped  these 
almost  immortal  characters,  yet  they  are  sharp  and 
black  as  though  they  had  been  "  pulled"  but  yesterday. 
On  the  margins  are  other  characters,  brown  and  rusty, 


180  PULPIT  PORTRAITS  I    OR, 

but  legible  enough.  Here  and  there  certain  portions  of 
the  text  are  under-scored,  and  brief  annotations  are 
placed  opposite.  In  whose  writing  are  these  marginal 
references  ?  No  ^kHBuid  than  that  of  Philip  Me- 
lanchthon  rested  o^H  ffges,  and  n^other  face  than 
his  bent  over  themM  Brost  fancy  that  "  meek  and 
mild"  Reformer's  spi^Jfnear  me  as  I  touch  the  very 
paper  which  once  he  touched.  Verily,  there  is  a  charm, 
a  species  of  papyrc-%iagnetism,  in  sheets  which  the  hand 
of  genius  and  piety  has  eviscerated  by  physical  contact ! 
I  know  well  enough  that  I  am  coveting  my  neighbor's 
goods ;  but  I  feel  strongly  inclined  to  lay  my  appropria- 
tive  "claws"  on  certain  thin  volumes  which  occupy  a 
certain  corner  of  this  library.  Were  I  to  filch  Mrs. 
Hutchinson's  trial  because  of  its  scarcity,  I  fear  me  that 
the  literary  larceny  would  end  in  a  trial  in  which  I 
should  take  a  leading  part.  The  abstraction  of  any  of 
these  exceedingly  rare  volumes  of  Early  Histories  of 
the  New  England  States  might  consign  me  to  the  State 
prison,  and  the  fact  of  their  having  been  a  churchman's 
property  might  possibly  deprive  me  of  the  benefit  of 
clergy.  No;  I  will  be  content  to  look  and  long,  and 
thank  my  stars  that  I  have  profited  by  these  famous 
lines,  whose  author  is,  I  regret  to  say,  unknown.  Would 
that  all  others  beside  myself  were  influenced  by  his  "  ut- 
terances:" 

"  Steal  not  this  book,  my  honest  friend, 
For  fear  the  gallows  should  be  your  end, 
And  when  yonder  the  Lord  will  say : 

*  Where's  the  book  you  stole  away  ?'" 


PEN-PICTURES.  181 

Less  attractive  in  externals  are  the  russet  volumes  be- 
fore -which  I  now  stand,  than  many  of  their  modern 
neighbors  who  flaunt  in  all  the  glories  of  scarlet  and 
green,  and  gold ;  but  oh  !  wl^Lnnnes  of  untold  wealth 
lie  between  tSPcovers  of  thSBKious  little  quartos  and 
duodecimos  !  How  quaintly  slductive  are  the  old-fash- 
ioned title-pages ;  how  enticing  the  type  ;  how  beautiful 
to  a  schoolman's  eye  the  rude  wood-cuts  which  seem  to 
have  been  hacked,  not  cut,  out  of  the  wood ;  how  aston- 
ishingly delightful  the  coppei*  u  effigies."  As  I  gaze  on 
each  and  all,  I  am  no  longer  a  dweller  in  this  book-mul- 
tiplication age ;  but  by  a  miracle  time  has  rolled  back, 
and,  wrapped  in  a  sad-colored  cloak,  topped  with  a 
steeple-crowned  hat,  and  adorned  with  ruffles,  I  am 
standing  at  the  window  of  old  John  Dunton,  whose  shop 
in  the  "Poultry"  bears  the  sign  of  the  Black  Haven, 
gazing  at  his  "Bloody  Assizes"  just  out,  and  eyeing 
critically  the  portraits  of  martyrs  prefixed  to  that  singu- 
lar production,  who,  we  are  told  by  an  inscription  be- 
neath, "  all  dyed  in  faith."  I  ramble,  too,  about 
"  Sainte  Powle's"  church-yard,  and  drop  into  the  "  Sun 
and  Bible,"  or  «  The  Gunne,"  in  Fleet  street,  or  "  The 
Angel;"  for  in  those  times  signs  were  not  peculiar  to 
hostelries.  But  this  day-dream  would  seduce  me  too 
far  from  my  more  immediate  subject ;  so  I  would  fain 
return  to  this  nook  of  the  study  where,  as  elder  brethren 
of  literature,  Puritan  Fathers,  Non-conformists,  old 
travellers,  theologians,  and  history-writers,  stand  gravely 
side  by  side. 

Talk  of  modern  illustrated  works  !  Why,  looking  on 
16 


J.82  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  on, 

some  superb  elephant  folios  which  quietly  repose  on  this 
Oxford  table,  I  imagine  that  we  have  not  made  so  great 
a  progress  in  book-decoration  as  some  would  have  us  be- 
lieve. Here  is  "  Bath^j^^eries  of  vie^Lpf  the  city  of 
Bladud  and  Beau  NaSBy  Nattes ;  an^Rf  other  parts 
of  England,  by  Smirkeland  Loutherbpurg,  which  are 
perfect  of  their  kind.  They  are  colored  with  the  greatest 
care,  and  are  equal  to  the  original  water-color  drawings. 
And  here,  too,  is  that  costly  work,  a  work  which  could 
only  have  been  produced  under  governmental  patronage 
as  this  was :  "  An  Illustrated  Record  of  the  Important 
Events  of  the  Annals  of  Europe."  I  question  if  such 
another  copy  as  the  one  before  me  can  be  found  in  all 
America.  Only  by  a  rare  chance  came  it  into  the  posses- 
sion of  its  present  owner*  a  duplicate  of  it  will  be  vainly 
sought  for,  save  in  noble  and  great  public  libraries ;  and 
even  when  found  in  such,  it  forms  a  feature. 

I  now  open  a  splendid  imperial  quarto  edition  of  the 
Life  of  Nelson,  profusely  illustrated  by  some  enthusiastic 
collector,  with  all  relating  to  'the  great  English  Admiral. 
A  thousand  sources  must  have  been  ransacked,  a  thou- 
sand books  mutilated,  in  order  to  contribute  plates  of 
persons  and  places  to  this  precious  collection.  It  must 
have  been  the  labor  of  a  life  as  well  as  a  labor  of  love, 
the  illustrating  of  this  volume,  which  is  absolutely 
unique. 

Magnificent  is  this  copy  of  Barrington's  Memoirs,  a 
presentation-copy  from  Sir  Jonah ;  and  almost  perfect 
the  Cromwellian  collection.  This  latter  assemblage  of 
all  relating  to  the  great  Protector  is  the  most  perfect, 


o  o 

But  if  I  g^on,  I  shall  wri^   a  catal 
panegyric,  mstead  of   gossiping  in   a 


PEN-PICTURES.  183 

perhaps,  extant ;  a  pretty  sure  indication  that  the  col- 
lector is  a  bit  of  hero-worshipper,  a  thick-and-thin  ad- 
mirer of  England's  greatest  man. 

catalogue,  and  pen 
desultory  way 
about  books  in  general.  Yet  must  I  not  omit  to  glance 
at  the  works  of  Bishop  Brownrigg,  Franke,  Donne, 
Hooker,  Jackson,  Bull,  Reynolds,  Clerk,  Taylor,  and  of 
Perkins,  Robert  Harris,  Ball,  Baxter,  Howe,  Flavel, 
Owen,  Caryl,  and  cropped-eared  Prynne.  Nor  can  I 
refrain  from  peeping  into  certain  cases  containing  pre- 
cious autographs,  and  glancing  with  candle  over-head, 
connoisseur  fashion,  at  the  choice  paintings  which  adorn 
the  bits  of  space  on  the  walls. 

Of  these,  there  is  one  by"  Franke,  a  "  St.  John 
Preaching  in  the  Wilderness,"  a  bit  of  exquisite  color- 
ing ;  a  cabinet  head  of  Shakspeare,  an  undoubted  copy 
of  Vandyke.  This  precious  gem  of  art  lay  for  one 
hundred  and  sixty  years  ii^  the  family  of  one  of  the 
early  New  England  settlers,  and  was  presented  by  a  de- 
scendant to  the  owner.  Many- a  tempting  offer  has  been 
made  him  for  this  effigy  of  the  great  bard  by  the  great 
painter ;  but  he  is  a  collector  of  such  matters  for  love, 
not  lucre,  so  he  quietly  listens  to  all  proposals,  and  nega- 
tives them  with  an  appreciative  smile. 

#  *  #  *  *  * 

. ?  '. 

It  is  Sabbath  morning,  and  a  glorious  morning  is  it  in 
the  "  leafy  month  of  June."  From  a  height  overlook- 
ing the  Atlantic,  where  I  stand  drinking  in  with  ever 
new  delight  the  breezes  that  have  swept  over  thousands 


184  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  OR, 

of  miles  of  water,  I  hear  the  sound  of  "  church-going 
bells"  that  swing  from  steeple,  tower,  and  turret  in  the 
ancient  town  below.  Descending,  I  join  the  good  people 
who  are  taking  their  way  to  one  or  another  of  the  places 
of  worship,  and  soon  arrive  at  a  Gothrc  structure  of 
large  proportions  whose  tower  stands  boldly  and  pic- 
turesquely up  —  a  pretty  and  striking  feature  in  the  land- 
scape, as  it  appears  from  the  sea.  Let  us  enter  Dr. 
Choules's  church,  for  such  it  is.  It  is  large,  spacious 
and  comfortable.  A  fine  organ  faces  the  pulpit,  in 
which  stands  already  the  pastor  who  is  giving  out  a  hymn. 

And  very  seldom  have  I  heard  a  hymn  better  read  — 
read  with  so  much  feeling,  such  a  just  appreciation  of 
the  meaning  of  the  author.  It  is  sung,  and  then  a 
chapter  is  read,  also  very  beautifully,  and  this  is  a  great 
thing,  for  what  can  be  so  afflicting  and  annoying  as  a 
Bible  extract  badly  read.  And  yet,  how  often  are  we 
compelled  to  endure  such  misery.  Now  follows  a  prayer 
which  is  calm,  solemn  and  truly  devotional,  then  another 
hymn  is  sung,  and  now  comes  the  sermon. 

It  is  earnest,  argumentative,  practical,  and  unmistaka- 
bly the  composition  of  one  who  has  drank  deeply  from 
those  "  pure  wells  of  English  undefiled,"  the  works  of 
the  good  old  Divines.  There  is  no  surface-work,  no  thin 
plating  of  gold  leaf  over  a  mass  of  base  metal ;  all  is 
sterling  and  of  a  true  mintage.  Like  most  of  the  Doc- 
tor's sermons  it  abounds  in  pungent  and  pithy  aphorisms, 
things  which  stick  to  the  memory  and  often  and  often 
recur,  long  after  the  sermon  has  been  delivered.  The 
preacher  speaks  as  one  having  authority,  and  his  enlarged 


PEN-PICTURES.  185 

and  extensive  knowledge  of  the  world  and  of  humanity 
in  its  various  phases,  stand  him  in  good  stead  in  the  sa- 
cred desk.  Many  of  his  sermons  are  models  of  compo- 
sition; solid,  sound,  and  scriptural.  Our  preacher  has 
no  liking  for  the  religious  "shams"  of  the  day,  and 
when  there  is  a  necessity,  he  scruples  not  to  denounce 
them.  Delivered,  as  his  discourses  are,  with  great  fer- 
vor and  power,  they  seldom  fail  of  making  a  deep  im- 
pression, and  the  prosperity  of  his  church,  of  which  he 
has  more  than  once  been  pastor,  is  the  best  proof  of  the 
success  of  his  endeavors  to  promote  their  spiritual  pros- 
perity. 

Few  men  in  the  Baptist  denomination,  nor  indeed  in 
any  other,  are  better  known  than  is  Dr.  Choules.  He 
is  an  universal  favorite,  and  his  enlarged  liberality  of 
opinion  doubtless  contributes  to  this  feeling.  No  one 
can  be  less  liable  to  the  charge  of  bigotry  than  himself. 
While  he  defends  his  own  opinions  stoutly,  he  never  at- 
tacks, and  is  always  courteous  towards  the  thinkings  of 
others.  The  satirical  maxim  of  Emerson,  "  Difference 
from  me  is  the  measure  of  absurdity"  is  not  his.  He 
regards  the  right  of  other  men  to  think  on  religious  mat- 
ters, differently  from  himself,  but  his  own  ground  he 
keeps  well  guarded,  and  will  not  bate  an  inch  of  it. 

Dr.  Choules  is  wrell  known  both  in  this  country  and  in 
his  native  land  as  a  fine  scholar  and  an  elegant  and 
successful  author.  His  work  on  the  United  States  is  a 
standard  text  book.  Other  works  we  might  mention,  but 
it  is  not  necessary.  He  is  a  popular  lecturer,  the  se- 
ries of  addresses  on  Cromwell  having  received  the  high 
16* 


186  PULPIT   PORTRAITS:    OR, 

commendation  of  such  a  man  as  Daniel  Webster.  He  has 
edited  magazines  and  religious  newspapers,  and  to  his 
teachings  have  been  entrusted  the  sons  of  some  of  the  first 
men  in  our  community.  Ever  anxious  to  benefit  those  who 
require  aid,  he  has  always  opened  his  purse  and  used  his 
influence  to  assist  struggling  talent.  No  one  who  ever 
needed  his  assistance  applied  in  vain  for  it.  Indeed,  he 
has  been  generous  to  a  fault,  or  he  might  now  have  been 
among  the  wealthiest  of  his  class.  Anything  mean  or 
narrow  is  utterly  foreign  to  his  nature,  and  none  should 
know  this  better  than  the  writer.  But  lest  I  should  be 
suspected  of  penning  an  eulogy,  which  I  am  not,  I  will 
close  by  simply  remarking,  that,  as  a  pastor,  a  scholar,  a 
man  and  a  minister,  very  few  persons,  if  any,  surpass  in 
geniality,  soundness,  sincerity,  and  expansive  benevolence 
John  Overton  Choules. 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

REMINISCENCE  OF  LANT  CARPENTER,  D.  D.  VISIT  TO 
FEDERAL  STREET  CHURCH.  THE  LATE  DR.  CHANNING, 
DR.  EZRA  S.  GANNETT. 

"  For  modes  of  faith  let  graceless  zealots  fight ; 
He  can't  be  wrong  whose  life  is  in  the  right," 

thought  I,  as  I  entered  the  Federal-street  church  a  few 
Sabbath    mornings  since,  —  Pope's  well-known  couplet 


PEN-PICTURES.  187 

chiming  in  my  mind.  In  my  young  days  I  had  been 
taught  to  shun  an  Unitarian  church  as  I  would  a  "  play- 
house," which  was  about  the  next  worse  place  to  Tophet 
itself  in  the  estimation  of  the  very  good  and  very  ortho- 
dox "  old  folks  at  home."  However,  like  the  young  fish, 
who  went  to  the  baited  hook  just  because  the  maternal 
trout  told  it  not  to,  I  would  sometimes  steal  away  to  a 
certain  Lewins  Mead  meeting-house,  whose  pulpit  was  in 
those  days  occupied  by  a  very  celebrated  Unitarian  cler- 
gyman, or  minister,  as  such  is  termed  in  the  old  coun- 
try, the  distinctive  appellation  of  clergyman  being  ex- 
clusively applied  to  preachers  of  the  established  church. 

As  the  English  Unitarian  minister  to  whom  I  allude 
was  one  of  the  most  popular  of  his  denomination,  in 
Great  Britain,  and  as  he  is  well  known  by  repute  on  this 
side  of  the  Atlantic,  I  fancy  that  an  incidental  sketch  of 
him  may  be  welcome  to  many  by  whom  his  character  and 
genius  is  held  in  deep  veneration.  I  allude  to  the  Rev. 
Dr.  Lant  Carpenter,  for  many  years  the  eminent  pastor 
of  the  Unitarian  church  in  Bristol.  During  the  period 
when  he  held  that  pastorate,  some  other  pulpits  of  the 
city  I  have  named  were  filled  by  very  distinguished 
divines,  chief  among  whom  I  may  mention  flobert  Hall, 
John  RylaiM,  and  William  Thorpe.  These  gentlemen 
fully  appreciated,  as  indeed  they  could  not  help  doing, 
the  genius  and  "learning  of  Dr.  Carpenter,  but  his  creed 
was  a  fatal  bar  against  anything  like  friendly  communion 
with  him.  As  in  most  other  things,  the  Bristolians  were 
and  are  among  the  most  illiberal  and  bigoted  in  matters 
pertaining  to  religion,  and  to  attend  an  Unitarian  chapel 


188  PULPIT   PORTRAITS:    OR, 

was  quite  enough  to  set  the  seal  of  perdition  on  him  or 
her  who  should  be  guilty  of  so  heterodox  a  proceeding. 
Therefore,  Dr.  Carpenter  found  every  Sunday  an  "  audi- 
ence fit  though  few ;"  but  his  hearers  prized  their  pastor 
not  a  little,  and  valued  his  teachings  at  a  no  slight 
estimate. 

In  the  matter  of  personal  appearance,  Dr.  Carpenter 
was  striking.  He  was  a  little  man  with  a  remarkably 
large  head,  one  which  instinctively  made  you  think  of  an 
encyclopedia.  Seldom  have  I  seen  a  cranium  so  expan- 
sive, yet  so  well  balanced  in  its  proportions  as  was  his. 
Very  slightly  covered  with  hair,  its  "  developments,"  as 
some  might  call  them,  were  quite  apparent.  The  best  man- 
ner in  which  I  can  give  the  reader  some  idea  of  the  shape 
of  his  head  and  face  combined,  is  to  request  him  or  her  to 
reverse  the  popular  notion  of  the  similarity  of  the  late 
Louis  Phillippe's  head  and  face  to  a  pear.  In  the  case 
of  the  monarch  the  stem  of  the  fruit  was  uppermost,  the 
narrowest  part  corresponding  to  the  forehead,  and  the 
broadest  to  the  lower  portion  of  the  face.  In  Dr.  Car- 
penter's face,  the  breadth  was  above,  and  a  long  peaked 
chin  terminated  the  visage  inferiorly.  He  had,  I  think, 
a  pair  of  the  clearest,  calmest,  most  contemplative  blue- 
ish  gray  eyes  that  I  ever  saw,  —  their  mild^lnd  benevo- 
lent expression  winning  favor  for  their  owner  from  even 
the  bitterest  opponents  of  his  faith,  whenever  they  came 
into  personal  association  with  him  ;  but  this  was  seldom, 
for  Carpenter  loved  not  strife,  and  the  peaceful  pur- 
suits of  theology  or  science,  (for  he  was  a  profound 
natural  philosopher,)  had  more  charms  for  him  than  the 


PEN-PICTURES.  189 

bickerings  of  the  platform,  or  the  controversies  of  Chris- 
tians, indeed,  in  any  shape.  Not  that  he  shrank  from 
either  avowal  or  defence  of  his  own  peculiar  doctrines,  as 
his  correspondence  with  John  Foster  and  Robert  Hall 
sufficiently  test^s,  but  his  gentle  nature  was  not  fitted  to 
endure  the  "  s«Fe  of  tongues."  Much  does  it  speak  in 
his  favor,  that  in  the  city  of  Bristol,  where  his  followers 
were  indeed  but  "  two  or  three,"  and  where  Unitarian- 
ism  was  held  in  greater  abhorrence  than  infidelity  itself ; 
where  not  the  vestige  of  charity's  mantle  was  thrown 
over  the  principles  of  its  followers,  that  the  man  himself 
was  regarded  with  a  no  common  veneration.  And  when 
the  tidings  of  his  sad  and  mysterious  death  arrived  from 
Italy,  a  thrill  went  through  the  entire  community,  such 
only  as  is  felt  when  a  great  and  good  man  departs. 

Dr.  Carpenter's  preaching  was  of  a  severely  simple 
order.  It  might  be  said  of  him  that  he  could  not  build 
the  house  of  great  conclusions  on  the  sands  of  common 
report  and  familiar  truths ;  he  could  not  be  content  with 
shows  and  seemings,  even  of  the  clearest  and  fullest  form ; 
he  was  not  to  be  satisfied  with  the  shells  awarded  serious 
thinkers  by  the  moral  monkeys  of  the  world.  He  weighed 
each  portion  of  merchandise  ;  rang  each  piece  of  mental 
coin ;  scrifflized  each  vote  tendered  for  truth.  A  propo- 
sition uttered  to  him,  the  first  effect  was,  not  belief  but 
inquiry  ;  a  fact  stated,  and  he  u  asked  questions."  Pre- 
vailing opinions,  received  theories,  common  customs  were 
fair  matters,  he  thought,  for  examination  ;  many  of  them 
he  found,  alas,  for  post  mortem  examination !  And  the 
tilings  that  were  to  be  discovered  to  be  true  and  genuine, 


190  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:    OR, 

were  not  the  goal  of  his  investigations,  —  they  could  not 
be  received  as  ultimate  realities  ;  they  were  surfaces, 
counters,  windows,  locks,  —  indicating,  representing,  re- 
vealing, opening  truth,  which  to  him  was  always  "  the 
great  deep,"  "  the  true  riches,"  "  tl^.  inner  room," 
"  the  hid  treasure."  The  process  waJJr  course,  slow, 
but  the  results  were  blessed  ;  and  he  might  well  "  like 
his  mind  for  its  necessity  of  seeking  the  abstraction  upon 
every  subject."  Such  a  man's  life  is  to  be  estimated 
according  to  the  number,  —  not  of  his  nights  and  days, 
his  eatings  and  drinkings,  his  walkings  and  restings,  but 
his  thoughts  and  feelings,  his  ponderings  and  solicitudes, 
"  the  visions  of  his  head,"  and  a  the  searchings  of  his 
heart." 

The  death  of  Dr.  Carpenter  had  much  about  it  of  the 
solemn, —  as  indeed  death  always  has,—  and  of  the  mys- 
terious. Too  close  application  had,  in  all  probability, 
produced  that  peculiar  condition  of  the  brain  to  which 
all  intensely  studious  men  are  liable.  Excessive  mental 
toil  caused  Southey,  Scott,  Moore,  and  many  other  great 
writers  to  feel,  as  Swift  felt  and  expressed  it,  like  a  tree 
dying  at  the  top.  And  so  it  was  with  Lant  Carpenter. 
His  friends  perceived  with  sorrow  dark  shadows  often 
pass  across  that  hitherto  bright  and  uncLmled  mind, 
and  soon  it  became  evident  that  the  only  chance  of  his 
ultimate  recovery  was  absence  from  all  labor  and  change 
of  scene.  He  went  to  Italy,  and  hopes  of  recovery  were 
entertained ;  but  one  night,  whilst  his  bark  was  gliding 
through  the  Mediterranean,  he  was  suddenly  missed. 
Whether,  in  a  moment  of  aberration,  he  had  precipitated 


PEN-PICTURES.  191 

himself  into  its  depths,  or  had  accidentally  fallen  over- 
board, can  now  be  never  known.  In  silence  and  alone 
he  passed  from  earth,  the  stars  above  being  sole  watchers 
of  the  scene.  A  few  days  afterwards  his  body  was 
found,  on  a  surf-smitten  beach,  not  far  distant  from  the 
place  where  he  $ras  last  seen  alive. 

It  was  natural  enough  that,  as  I  seated  myself  in  the 
Federal-street  church,  my  thoughts  should  revert  to  Dr. 
Carpenter,  for  he  it  was  who  had  first  revealed  to  me,  in 
a  lecture  at  the  Bristol  Philosophical  Institution,  the  un- 
surpassed eloquence  of  William  Elftry  Channing,  of 
whom  he  was  an  ardent  and  most  judicious  admirer. 
And  there  I  sat  within  the  very  shadow  of  the  pulpit  in 
which  America's  most  widely-known  pulpit-orator  was,  a 
few  years  ago,  wont  to  pour  out  full  and  clear  streams 
from  the  fountain  of  his  capacious  mind.  One  of  the 
few  regrets  that  I  have  experienced  since  I  made  this 
country  my  home,  has  been  that  I  did  not  reach  its  shores 
in  sufficient  time  to  have  heard  Channing.  Only  the 
written  word  remains,  and  that  is  much,  but  after  all  it 
does  not  quite  compensate  for  the  loss  of  the  living  voice, 
of  the  beaming  eye,  of  the  expressive  features.  Yet  it 
was  something  even  to  sit  in  the  church  made  famous  by 
his  minis trations,  and  with  half-closed  eyes  to  survey  in 
imagination  that  grave,  earnest  face,  and  dignified  figure 
in  the  pulpit  which  would  now  know  it  no  more  forever. 

When  a  great  pulpit  orator  dies,  he  generally  bequeaths 
a  great  difficulty  to  his  people  in  the  .shape  of  their  choice 
of  a  successor,  for  it  is  by  no  means  an  easy  thing  to  do 
away  with  old  prejudices  and  ancient  habits  of  hearing. 


192  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  OR, 

And  a  rather  perilous  position  does  he  occupy  who  stands 
in  the  lately  vacated  pulpit ;  for  seldom  does  it  happen 
that  the  mantle  of  the  ascending  great  man  falls  on  shoul- 
ders equally  well  able  to  sustain  and  bear  it.  Now  and 
then,  however,  it  so  happens  that  the  successor  of  a  popu- 
lar preacher,  by  a  rare  combination  of  qualities,  if  he 
does  not  completely  fill  the  chasm  made  by  death,  yet 
bridges  it  so  effectually  and  gracefully  that  no 

"  Dreary  sea  now  flows  between." 

And  this  I  belike  has  been  the  case  in  respect  to  the 
Rev.  Dr.  Gannett,  and  the  society  meeting  at  the  Federal- 
street  church.  To  them  the  loss  of  Channing  was,  to  a 
certain  extent,  irreparable,  but  it  is  our  consolation  to 
know  that  frequently  when  suns  set,  distinct  and  bright 
through  the  purple  western  haze  is  often  to  be  seen  the 
coming  brightness  of  some  new  orb,  whose  beams  to  a 
certain  degree  will  compensate  for  the  quenched  light  of 
the  just  vanished  luminary. 

Dr.  Gannett's  pulpit  appearance  can  scarcely  fail  to 
impress  the  gazer  with  a  sense  of  profound  respect.  His 
head  is  bald,  save  on  the  temples,  which  are  covered  with 
silvery  hair.  Dark,  solemn  eyes  gleam  from  beneath 
rather  busy  brows,  and  the  whole  countenance  has  the 
sedate  expression  of  a  close  student.  His  voice  is  not 
powerful,  but  the  tones  are  clear,  distinct  and  well  modu- 
lated. Seemingly  heedless  of  rhetorical  flourishes,  and 
indeed  of  affectations  of  any  kind,  he  preaches  as  all 
thinking  men  ought  and  do  preach,  —  from  the  depths 
of  his  soul.  Popular,  in  the  general  sense  of  the  word 


PEN-PICTURES.  193 

popularity,  which  means  one  who  draws  a  crowd  of 
parson-worshippers,  Dr.  Gannett  is  not,  nor  is  it  likely 
that  he  will  be.  His  preaching  is  too  calm,  too  dignified 
to  suit  the  popular  taste.  I  should  almost  suppose  him 
something  of  a  hermit  in  life  and  thought ;  I  say  I  sup- 
pose so,  for  I  have  no  means  of  knowing  save  by  his  pul- 
pit appearance  and  pulpit  sayings.  He  has  his  manner, 
but  is  neither  gaudy,  nor  meretricious,  nor /noisy,  nor  ec- 
centric. And  then  he  is  seldom  wordy ;  he  never  uses 
a  word  too  much  ;  you  seldom  feel  that  another  word 
could  have  been  supplied  which  would  be  better  than  the 
one  used. 

In  common  with  the  best  spirits  of  the  age,  Dr.  Gan- 
nett eschews'  the  didactic  method,  alike  as  a  method  of 
obtaining  the  truth,  or  communicating  truth ;  he  seldom 
presents  his  thought  wrapped  in  the  formulas  of  logic. 
He  presents  to  you  his  thought ;  he  takes  pleasure  in  his 
own  volitions  and  thinkings :  he  does  not  set  them  forth 
as  man-traps  to  catch  unwary  understandings.  His  style, 
at  times,  lacks  continuity,  because  of  its  more  weighty 
excellence.  You  could  figure  him,  in  the  middle  ages, 
contenting  himself  with  a  cell,  and  shrinking  from  con- 
fraternity with  society,  so  that  his  spirit  might  be  free  of 
the  universe.  Hermits  there  are  now-a-days,  and  they 
are  the  world's  best  teachers,  too :  for  to  know  a  world  a 
^man  must  to  a  great  degree  go  out  of  it,  and  shut  him- 
self up  where  he  may  survey  it  without  partiality  or  pas- 
sion, or  spleen.  Thus  in  the  olden  time  the  lone  thinker 
hied  him  away  to  woods,  to  claustral  solitudes,  to  cham- 
bers excavated  from  beetling  rocks.  He  sat  upon  the 
17 


191 

ancestral  moss  of  the  hoary  tree,  he  looked  down  a  thou- 
sand fathoms  into  the  depths  of  his  own  soul,  while  the 
silences  descended  around  him  and  echoed  through  the 
solitudes  their  million  voices.  Ah  !  why  in  these  days 
have  we  forsaken  the  world's  oldest  and  best  preachers  ? 
Out  of  the  hermit  life  the  fine  gold  is  ever  dug.  The 
superficial  attainments,  the  prattling,  twaddling,  mawkish, 
blue-stockingism  of  the  tea-table  may  indeed  be  picked 
up  at  a  circulating  library,  or  from  the  delightful  and  in- 
structive discourses  of  the  Reverend  Orthodox  Fiddle- 
faddle  ;  but  if  a  man  would  be  an  instructor,  —  if  he 
-would  be  instructed,  it  holds,  now  as  in  the  olden  time, 
like  the  almost  divine  Pagan,  he  must  travel  to  the  grot 
to  meet  Egeria  ;  or  (and  this  figure  is  far  more  in  keep- 
ing with  the  subject)  he  must  go  into  the  wilderness  for 
forty  days ;  if  the  angels  are  to  minister  to  him,  he  must 
retire  into  the  mountain  apart  to  pray. 

Many  of  Dr.  Channing's  sentences  come  to  us  like 
the  short,  weighty,  condensed  syllables  of  those  brave 
old  writers,  Thomas  Fuller,  or  Owen  Feltham,  or  Sir 
Thomas  Browne.  Not  rich  with  the  mellowing  pomp,  the 
stained-glass  glory  of  the  last  of  these,  but  say-sentences, 
composed  of  the  richness  of  the  first  and  the  depth  of 
meaning  of  the  last,  for,  preach  whenever  he  will,  his 
sermons  reveal  the  thinker ;  and  we  have  sentences  that 
abide  in  the  memory  like  verbal  or  mental  amulets, —  sen- 
tences like  the  hill- tops,  chaining  the  horizon  around,  and 
'marking  out  the  character  of  the  country  and  its  bound- 
aries and  beauties. 

Dr.  Gannett  occupies  a  high  position  in  his  church. 


PEN-PICTURES.  195 

He  is  the  representative  of  the  conservative  portion  of 
the  Unitarian  body,  and  is  one  who  will  not  bate  one  jot 
or  tittle  of  its  great  distinctive  principles.  Heedless  of 
the  "  liberal "  movement  of  certain  portions  of  the  con- 
nexion, he  eschews  all  "  new-fangled "  notions,  and  is 
a  "  Hebrew  fj£  the  Hebrews."  His  influence  in  the 
city  of  Boston,  and  wherever  Unitarianism  is  preached, 
is  very  great,  and  he  exercises  it  in  all  cases  judiciously. 
Few  pastors  are  more  devoted  to,  or  more  beloved  and 
prized  by  their  people.  As  a  writer  he  wields  a  vigor- 
ous and  powerful  pen,  and  possesses  a  transparent  and 
nervous  style  of  diction.  In  him  the  temperance  move- 
ment, and  of  late  the  Maine  Law,  has  a  firm  and  un- 
flinching advocate,  and  few  benevolent  societies  are  un- 
beriefited  by  his  aid.  Perhaps  there  is  no  minister  now 
living  who  could  so  successfully  labor  in  the  field  once 
occupied  by  William  Ellery  Channing  as  does  Dr.  Ezra 
S.  Gannett. 


CHAPTER   XVII. 


REV.    JOHN    PIERPONT.       HIS    APPEARANCE.       HIS    STYLE    OP 
PREACHING,    ETC.       REV.    E.    H.    CHAPIN. 

JOHN  PIERPONT!     The  heart  of  many  a  true  lover 
of  the  possessors  of  what  Wordsworth  calls 

"  The  vision  and  the  faculty  divine,** 


196  PULPIT   PORTRAITS:    OR, 

•will  pulsate  with  a  quicker  beat  when  that  name  is  men* 
tioned,  for  the  gifted  individual  who  bears  it,  is  known 
not  only  in  his  own  land,  but  in  the  "  mother  country," 
as  a  genuine  Son  of  Song.  Pulpit  poets  in  these  days, 
when  almost  everybody  who  can  read  strings  of  rhymes, 
are  by  no  means  rare  ;  but  in  proportion  to^eir  numbers, 
the  men  whose  songs  the  world  will  not  willingly  let  die, 
are  comparatively  few.  Pierpont  belongs  not  to  that 
class  whose  productions  are  merely  of  an  ephemeral  na- 
ture. In  the  Walhalla  of  Genius  he  is^sure  of  a  niche, 
beside  those  allotted  to  the  greatest  of  his  Country's 
Bards.  ^ 

An  anonymous  writer  speaking  of  him  as  an  "American 
poet,  says :  — 

"  His  poetical  temperament  added  greatly  to  his  power 
as  a  pulpit  orator.  His  imagination  was  always  an  ac- 
tive minister  in  the  service  of  his  reason.  Profuse  in 
beautiful  and  expressive  comparisons,  ranging  at  will 
through  the  glories  and  wonders  of  creation,  and  suscep- 
tible to  all  the  phases  of  human  emotion,  it  arrayed  his 
most  profound  thoughts  in  a  fascinating  costume,  con- 
cealing the  severity  of  his  argument  in  graceful  and 
flowing  imagery.  Born  with  an  innate  genius  for  poetry, 
he  would  have  attained  a  brilliant  fame  in  that  direction, 
had  not  his  mind  been  preoccupied  with  absorbing  studies 
and  the  wearing  labors  of  his  profession.  As  it  is,  his 
poetical  productions,  though  limited  in  number,  have  a 
distinguished  place  in  American  literature.  His  princi- 
pal poem,  "  The  Airs  of  Palestine,"  is  an  admirable 
specimen  of  versification,  classical  m  conception  and  in 


PEN-PICTURES.  197 

diction,  abounding  in  pleasing  images  and  elevated  re- 
ligious thought.  It  met  with  a  highly  favorable  recep- 
tion from  the  best  judges  of  poetry,  upon  its  first  appear- 
ance, and  their  decision  has  never  been  reversed  by  sub- 
sequent readers.  Mr.  Pierpont's  numerous  smaller 
pieces^u^Mjrt^  for  the  most  part  by  occasions  of  pub- 
lic intereslB  ^•Ldely  known,  and  are  universally  pop- 
ular. SoSM  Hhem  are  ^models  of  genuine  lyrical 
poetry."  * 

A  few  Sabbaths  ago  at  the  dawn  of  day  we  left  the 
hot  city  behind  us  and  journeyed  ,as  far  as  Medford,  in 
which  charming  place  the  subject  of  our  sketch  at  pres- 
ent officiates.  And  grateful  indeed  was  the  change  from 
the  "endless  meal  of  brick"  to  the  green  country. 
Very  pleasant  are  these  New  England  villages,  especially 
to  an  eye  that  has  long  been  accustomed  to  survey  those 
of  OKI  England;  the  latter  bearing  all  the^arks  of 
age,  the  former  possessing  all  the  charms  of  novelty. 
How  white  and  glittering  these  pretty  cottages  with 
their  green  blinds  look !  There  is  so  much  taste  dis- 
played in  their  construction  that  eacl^^^hem  with  its 
pillars  and  verandah,  and  sometimes  its^JP&la,  seems  in- 
tended as  a  model  for  exhibition  and  only  lacking  a  glass 
shade.  Indeed  the  little  lightning  rods  pointing  above 
the  chimnies  and  gables,  seem  to  be  the  cut-off  cords  by 
which  they  might  have  been  let  down  from  cloud-land. 
And  then,  surrounded,  as  they  are,  by  beautiful  trees 
and  gardens,  and  the  cleanest  of  atmospheres  around 
and  above  them,  they  appear  to  an  English  eye  more  like 
houses  seen  in  dreams  and  pictures  than  real  dwelling- 


198  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:    OH, 

places,  so  very  airy,  unsubstantial  and  smokeless  do  they 
appear.  And,  instead  of  some  ancient,  ivy-clad  temple 
with  its  surrounding  grave-yard,  where  "  The  rude  fore- 
fathers of  the  hamlet  sleep,"  there  arises  here  an.  ex- 
quisitely neat  church,  white  and  pure,  looking  as  the 
feathers  of  an  angel's  wing.  And  hui^^^^^J^L  tur- 
ret, a  bell  rings  out  its  "  church-goiijH  BRjwhose 
echoes  over  vale  and  lake  float  sweeS  ^Re  summer 

Here  we  are  then  at  the  door  of  Mr.  Pierpont's 
church,  into  which  we  forthwith  enter  and  take  our  seat. 
It  is  spacious  and  well  fflled.  Already  the  pastor  is  in 
the  pulpit,  and  the  choir  are  singing  the  first  hymn. 

Let  me  sketch  him  as  he  rises  to  read  an  opening 
chapter. 

You  may  see  at  a  glance  that  no  common  man  is  be- 
fore you.  «  He  is  tall,  very  erect,  and  firmly,  thougn  no%. 
stoutly  built.  In  point  of  figure  and  dress  he  so  much 
resembles  the  late  Robert  Southey  that  were  his  head 
concealed  he  might  be  mistaken  for  the  late  Laureate. 
But  that  head^^  remarkable  one.  I  have  seldom  seen 
One  more  stra^^  Its  great  characteristic  appears  to 
me  to  be  its  perfect  manliness.  The  forehead  is  high, 
broad  and  furrowed  across  with  the  lines  of  thought. 
Overshadowing  it  is  an  abundance  of  white  hair,  which 
in  moments  of  excitement  and  exertion  "  streams  like  a 
meteor."  Beneath  heavy  brows  are  a  pair  of  blue, 
keen,  expressive  eyes,  that  change  with  every  changing 
thought.  The  nose  is  short  and  thick,  the  mouth  and 
chin  symmetrical  and  well  shaped.  The  expression  of 


PEN-PICTURES.  199 

the  whole  is  that  of  great  benignity  blended  with  in- 
domitable courage,  unshakable  decision,  and  much  dig- 
nity. 

Mr.  Pierpont's  style  of  preaching  is  exclusively  his 
own.  In  it  is  mingled  boldness,  fervor,  deep  thought 
and  irresigjh|rgument.  It  has  been  said  of  his  ser- 
mons whe^^K:  of  the  Hollis  street  church,  in  Boston, 
that  they  wei^f  replete  with^ngmM^tbough  tpdotfaed  in 
a  highly  picturesque  and  poetic  diction.  They  were 
often  argumentative  in  character,  but  always  relieved 
by  ingenious  and  novel  illustrations.  Avoiding  in  a 
great  measure  abstract  and  dogmatic  themes,  they  dwelt 
on  topics  which  come  home  to  the  "  business  and  bosoms" 
of  a  popular  audience.  Free  from  the  threadbare 
common-places  of  the  pulpit,  they  attracted  attention  by 
the  boldness  of  discussion  and  originality  of  style.  Al- 
Htys  earnest,  decorous,  impressive,  they  sometimes  bor- 
rowed the  resources  of  pungent  sarcasm  and  racy  hu- 
mor.  Uealing  in  the  broad  principles  of  human  nature, 
deriving  suggestions  from  the  current  events  of  the  day, 
and  delivered  with  a  fervent  and  kindling  eloquence, 
they  aroused  the  hearer  to  reflection  anck  inquiry,  while 
they  touched  the  nobler  sympathies  of  his  heart.  No 
public  speaker  has  more  thoroughly  studied  the  philoso- 
phy of  elocution.  The  charm  of  his  intonations,  and 
the  variety  and  force  of  his  emphasis,  gave  a  fresh 
meaning  to  his  reading  of  the  Scriptures  and  of  sacred 
poetry.  In  extemporaneous  efforts,  there  has  seldom 
been  his  equal,  for  continuity  of  thought,  freedom  of 
language,  and  pithy  and  pointed  illustration. " 


200  PULPIT   PORTRAITS:    OR, 

The  same  writer  adds :  — 

"John  Pierpont,  whose  name  we  have  never  seen 
graced  with  the  "  semilunar  fardels,"  which  indicate 
that  a  preacher  of  the  Gospel  has  so  far  drilled  in  har- 
mony with  the  "  Masters  in  Israel"  of  his  age  as  to  be 
dubbed  a  Doctor  of  Divinity,  has  devdgj^long  and 
active  life  to  the  service  of  society,  iij  Hmnistry  of 
Christian  truth,  righteousness,  purity,  £^^u>ve.  Unre- 
cognized, to  a  great  degree,  by  the  Scribes  and  Phari- 
sees, with  whom  he  has  acted  in  intimate  relations, 
"  among  them,  but  not  of  them,"  he  is  one  of  the  most 
richly-gifted  men  of  the  present  day,  and  has  achieved 
a  fame,  which  will  descend  to  future  generations  with 
increasing  brightness,  and  with  a  benignant  and  elevating 
influence.  In  the  singularly  varied  walks  of  life,  in 
which  his  lot  has  been  cast,  he  has  been  subject  to  severe 
trials,  calling  for  the  exercise  of  nobleness  of  charact^BB 
serenity  of  judgment,  and  promptness  of  action ;  an<Jpil^ 
all  of  them  he  has  exhibited  those  traits  of  genffbus  and 
heroic  manhood,  that  lofty  devotion  to  principle,  and  that 
stern  disregard  to  personal  consequences,  which  have 
won  the  admiration  of  his  friends,  and  extorted  a  tribute 
of  homage  even  from  his  enemies.  Though  now  ad- 
vanced in  years,  his  u  eye  is  not  dim,  nor  is  his  natural 
force  abated,"  while  he  devotes  the  energies  of  a  green 
and  vigorous  old  age  to  the  cause  of  moral  truth  and 
justice,  at  whose  shrine  he  has  been  a  faithful  worship- 
per from  his  youth." 

The  author  of  Crayon  Sketches  thus  graphically  de- 
scribes Mr.  Pierpont :  — 


PEN-PICTURES.  201 

"  Pierpont  is  emphatically  the  Temperance  poet.  See 
him  standing  in  that  magnificent  music  hall,  reading  his 
poem  before  the  members  of  the  Mercantile  Library  So- 
ciety. He  is  straight  as  a  palm-tree  fanned  by  the 
*  airs  of  Palestine,'  his  snow-white  hair  looks  like  a  halo 
of  glory  about  his  head,  and  the  rosy  glow  of  health 
upon  his  face  shows  that  his  heart  can  never  grow  old. 
Few  men  of  his  years  (he  is  upwards  of  sixty)  have 
been  young  so  long  |Ahe ;  few  men  of  his  age  are  so 
young  as  he  is  now.  jffe  always  dresses  neatly,  and  has 
an  air  of  military  compactness,  looks  well  in  the  street 
or  on  the  platform.  His  eyes  are  blue  and  brilliant; 
forehead  stamped  with  the  lines  of  intellectual  superi- 
ority ;  sanguine,  nervous.  In  any  audience  he  would 
be  singled  out  as  a  leader.  As  a  speaker,  he  is  always 
interesting,  .often  2eloquen^fcbere  is  a  rich  vein  of 
poetry  running  through  hiSBMrons  and  speeches,  which 
enfeuice  the  value  of  his  efforts.  While  speaking,  he 
stands  erect,  and  has  a  habit  of  shaking  his  hand,  with 
his  forefinger  extended,  when  he  is  earnestly  emphatic 
on  any  particular  subject  under  discussion,  at  the  same 
time  moving  his  head,  while  his  eyes  flash  as  though  he 
was  shaking  stars  out  of  his  forehead." 

Mr.  Pierpont  has  long  been  identified  with  the  cause 
of  Temperance,  and  his  labors  in  that  field,  as  well  as  in 
other  spheres  of  Moral  Reforms  have  been  great  and 
singularly  useful.  It  has  been  recorded  of  him  that 
"  He  threw  himself  into  these  movements  with  peculiar 
energy  and  indomitable  courage.  He  never  shrunk  from 


202  PULPIT  PORTRAITS  :    OR, 

their  unpopularity.  He  had  no  desire  to  "  make  friends 
of  the  mammon  of  unrighteousness."  He  uttered  his 
convictions  in  the  trumpet-tones  of  religious  earnestness. 
Every  word  told.  At  length  the  persons  who  throve  by 
existing  abuses  took  the  alarm.  They  began  to  quail 
before  the  burning  eye  of  the  fiery-hearted  reformer. 
Low  mutterings  of  dissatisfaction  were  heard.  The 
faces  of  many  old  friends  were  turned  against  him,  and 
their  ancient  love  waxed  cold,  ^ttscontented  murmurs 
were  heard  "  between  the  porch^fnd  the  altar,"  as  the 
undismayed  "  man  of  God"  liftedcup  his  voice  in  rebuke 
of  some  gigantic  iniquity.  It  was  thought  an  unpardon- 
able audacity  that  a  Christian  preacher  in  a  Christian 
church  should  speak  so  boldly  of  "  temperance,  right- 
eousness, and  a  judgment  to  come."  But  as  yet,  the 
lurking  fire  of  oppositio^fcL  not  broke  out  into  open 
flame.  At  this  crisis,  IS^PBIrpont  was  attacked  with 
violent  fever.  His  sufferings  were  severe  and  protracte 
At  last  the  disease  was  conquered,  but  it  left  him  almost 
a  wreck  of  his  former  self.  In  1835,  by  the  advice  of 
his  physicians,  he  made  a  voyage  to  Europe,  extended 
his  travels  to  Constantinople  and  the  ruins  of  Ephesus, 
and  returned  in  about  eleven  months,  with  renewed  en- 
ergy, to  the  discharge  of  his  official  functions. 

Soon  after  his  return,  the  discontent  of  those  who  had 
been  aggrieved  by  his  zeal  for  reform,  was  manifested  in 
open  and  violent  opposition.  A  painful  controversy  be- 
tween a  portion  of  the  parish  and  the  pastor  commenced 
in  1838,  which  continued  for  seven  years,  when  a  dis- 


PEN-PICTURES.  203 

missal  was  requested  by  Mr.  Pierpont,  who  had  tri- 
umphantly sustained  himself  against  the  charge  of  his 
adversaries. 

His  conduct  in  this  protracted  controversy  was  marked 
by  great  energy,  determination,  and  wisdom.  He  felt  that 
he  was  not  merely  contending  for  personal  rights,  but  for 
a  great  moral  principle.  The  freedom  of  the  pulpit  was 
at  stake.  A  blow  was  struck  through  him  at  the  right 
of  liberty  of  thought  aj^  of  speech  in  the  public  teacher 
of  religion.  He  promptly  faced  the  ^danger,  and  faced 
it  manfully.  Surrounded  by  timid  friends,  who  shrunk 
from  contest,  as  an  evil  in  itself — with  little  sympathy 
from  his  professional  brethren,  who  regarded  the  peace 
of  a  parish  as  the  one  thing  needful,  and  living  in  an 
atmosphere  of  strong  conservative  proprieties,  he  was 
thrown  to  a  great  degree,  on  his  own  resources,  and 
made  "  to  tread  the  wine-press  alone."  But  not  for  a 
moment  did  he  falter  in  his  course.  With  equal  prompt- 
ness and  intrepidity,  he  met  every  manoeuvre  of  his  ene- 
mies, until,  having  fully  vindicated  his  position,  he  with- 
drew from  a  struggle  in  which  a  further  triumph  would 
have  been  superfluous. 

The  spirit  in  which  he  dealt  with  his  antagonists  will 
be  perceived  from  the  following  extract  from  a  reply  to 
the  proprietors  of  the  church  who  had  communicated  to 
him  a  vote  that  they  no  longer  wished  for  his  services  as 
pastor:  "And  now,  my  brethren,  as  this  may  possibly 
be  the  last  counsel  that,  as  your  minister,  I  may  ever 
have  an  opportunity  to  give  you,  those  of  you  especially, 
who  have  been  most  active  in  disquieting  the  sheep  of 


204  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  on, 

this  Christian  fold,  by  your  persecution  of  its  shepherd  ; 
indulge  me,  I  pray  you,  in  one  word  more  of  counsel. 
The  time  is  coming  when  you  will  thank  me  for  it,  thank 
me  the  more  heartily,  the  more  promptly  you  follow  it. 
Desist,  I  counsel  you  to  desist,  from  that  part  of  your 
business  which  has  been  the  cause  of  all  this  unhappy 
controversy  ;  the  cause  of  your  troubles,  and  of  my  trials 
and  triumph,  for  I  shall  be  triumphant  at  last.  Desist 
from  the  business  that,  througlg^he  poverty  of  many, 
has  made  you  rich,  that  has  put  you  into  your  palaces 
by  driving  them  through  hovels  and  prisons  down  into 
the  gates  of  the  grave.  Abandon  the  business  that  is 
kindling  the  fires  of  hatred  upon  your  own  hearth-stones, 
and  pouring  poison  into  the  veins  of  your  children,  yea, 
and  of  your  children's  children,  and  sending  the  shriek 
of  delirium  through  their  chambers,  the  business  that  is 
now  scourging  our  good  land  as  pestilence  and  war  have 
never  scourged  it ;  nay,  the  business,  in  prosecuting 
which  you  are,  even  now,  carrying  a  curse  to  all  the 
continents  of  the  world,  and  making  our  country  a 
stench  in  the  nostrils  of  the  nations.  I  counsel  you  to 
stay  your  hands  from  this  work  of  destruction,  and  wash 
them  of  this  great  iniquity,  as  becomes  the  disciples  of 
Him  who  came  not  -to  destroy  men's  lives,  but  to  save 
them.  As  His  disciples,  I  counsel  you  no  longer  to  ab- 
sent yourselves  from  your  wonted  place  of  worship,  and 
to  return  to  your  allegiance  to  your  church  and  to  God. 
Say  to  your  minister,  '  Well  done,  good  and  faithful  ser- 
vant !  you  have  faithfully  done  the  work  that  you  were 
ordained  to  do.  You  have  neither  spared  us  nor  feared 


PEN-PICTURES.  205 

us.  You  have  even  wounded  us ;  but  faithful  are  the 
wounds  of  a  friend.  We  commend  you  for  your  work, 
and  charge  you  to  go  on  with  it,  that  we  may  meet  to- 
gether, and  rejoice  together  in  the  presence  of  God.' r' 

Mr.  Pierpont  is  also  a  very  popular  lecturer ;  and  he 
frequently  recites  his  poems  in  public.  This  I  cannot 
but  think  is  not  a  step  in  the  right  direction,  for  surely 
it  is  somewhat  degrading  literature  to  peddle  it  from 
town  to  town,  just  as  ather  New  England  "  notions"  are 
carried  from  one  hamlet  to  another. 

Whilst  speaking  of  one  Reverend  Advocate  and  Poet 
of  Temperance,  I  am  reminded  of  another  minister  who 
as  a  Platform  speaker  has  not,  I  conceive,  his  equal  in 
America,  on  this  particular  topic.  I  refer  to  the  Rev. 
E.  H.  Chapin,  of  New  York.  Come  with  me,  reader, 
in  imagination,  to  some  great  public  meeting  when  this 
distinguished  orator  is  to  address  the  assembly,  for,  for 
once  I  shall  depart  from  my  usual  plan,  and  sketch  my 
subject  on  the  Platform  instead  of  in  the  Pulpit. 

And,  in  fact,  the  Platform,  as  well  as  the  Press,  is  a 
grflfct  rival  of  the  Pulpit.  This  is  preeminently  an  age 
of  public  meetings,  and  the  man  who  can  successfully 
work  upon  and  wield  the  passions  and  impulses  of  large 
audiences,  in  some  measure  approaches  to  the  character 
of  the  ancient  Bard  or  Minstrel.  He  moves  from  town 
to  town,  gathering  round  him  the  thousands  of  intelligent 
and  sympathetic  people,  as  of  old  the  minstrel  gathered 
the  crowds  of  baronial  retainers  in  the  Hall.  There  are 
two  kinds  of  meetings  held  in  this  country ;  there  are 
first,  immense  gatherings  like  those  in  Faneuil  Hall  or 
18 


206  PULPIT   PORTRAITS  :    Oil, 

on  the  Common,  where  the  people  go  to  enthrone  or  in- 
augurate a  principle ;  they  listen  to  the  annunciations 
from  the  platform  only  as  the  announcements  of  their 
own  loyalty  to  certain  thoughts.  When  they  applaud, 
to  a  great  degree,  it  may  be  said  that  they  applaud  them- 
selves ;  cheer  after  cheer  arises,  because  they  behold 
arising  behind  the  speaker,  their  own  impersonated  wis- 
dom. In  meetings  like  these  there  is  little  freedom  of 
opinion,  little  real  freedom  of  speech.  The  man  who  at- 
tempts to  breast  that  wave  of  feeling  is  borne  away  upon 
it  to  a  perfect  ocean  of  scorn ;  and  on  the  whole,  such 
meetings  are  studies,  not  of  the  best  phase  of  mankind ; 
sparks  of  speech  touch  the  gunpowder  of  prejudice,  and 
instantly  all  is  in  a  volcanic  blaze.  There  are  other 
immense  gatherings  where  the  people  assemble  to  hear 
a  man,  a  favorite,  an  orator  speak,  and  then  they  are 
prepared  to  listen  to  anything  he  may  say ;  they  go  de- 
termined to  be  good-humored,  determined  to  be  inspired, 
determined  to  be  pleased. 

So  it  is  at  this  time,  reader,  and  see,  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Chapin  is  about  to  addres  us.  Look  at  him,  —  he  is%iot 
tall,  but  he  is  fleshy.  His  face  is  good,  somewhat  iike 
that  of  Napoleon  in  many  of  its  phases.  The  eyes  are 
dark,  lively,  and  possessing  that  liquid  depth  so  peculiar 
to  all  men  of  brilliant  imaginations.  S^rthy  is  the 
complexion  and  dark  the  hair.  As  he  commences,  you 
hear  a  rich,  deep,  melodious  voice,  beautiful  in  its  modu- 
lations. He  goes  on,  and  now  you  will  agree  with  me 
that  the  platform  is  a  most  influential  organ  of  public 
opinion.  How  the  orator's  eloquence  intoxicates  the 


PEN-PICTURES.  207 

young !  what  vehemency  it  lends  to  the  impulses !  How, 
like  the  winds  over  the  ocean,  thy^ce  of  the  speaker 
awakens  the  passions  and  thg^^Bms  in  the  soul! 
There  are  few  sights  more  thrilffl|M^y,  than  such  as 
this,  a  spectacle  of  a  vast  assemblage  of  men  and 
women,  all  of  them  intelligent  and  educated,  all  aroused 
and  quickened  beneath  the  thrilling  tones  of  this  soul  in 
earnest !  How  the  masses  in  the  aisles  heave  to  and 
fro!  How  breathless!  how  hushed!  how  low  the  first 
muttered  indications  of  applause,  a  voice  in  the  distant 
crowd,  irrepressible,  sinking,  however,  directly,  BOW 
louder,  louder,  louder !  Ah !  the  sentence  is  unfinished, 
ere  forth  it  rolls!  that  peal  of  energetic  praise,  the 
speaker  masters  the  tumult,  and  moves  on  with  his  argu- 
ment or  his  declamation,  —  you  watch,  while  he  advances, 
the  kindling  faces  of  the  crowd.  Bright  eyes  flash ; 
cheeks  are  flushed  ;  all  is  paroxysmatic  excitement ;  all 
the  vitality  of  the  meeting  is  called  forth ;  and  now  the 
building  shakes  again  and  again  with  the  loud,  outspeak- 
ing thunder  of  the  people.  But  the  climax  is  not  yet 
reached  ;  the  speaker  has  not  concluded,  and  he  will  not 
drop  from  that  altitude ;  he  only  stooped  gracefully,  to 
slake  his  plumage  in  a  mountain  lake.  He  will  bear 
them  higher  yet ;  his  voice  has  attained  a  more  perfect 
fulness ;  he  nas  shaken  away  the  encumberments  of  the 
understanding.  He  commits  himself  to  the  full  heavens 
of  Hope  and  Promise.  See  how  he  pours  his  magnetism 
over  the  meeting !  and  every  auditor  is  clairvoyant,  in 
the  body  or  out  of  the  body  they  cannot  tell,  for  the 
witchery  of  genius  is  over  them  and  upon  them.  Every 


208  PULPIT   PORTRAITS:    OR, 

word  now  becomes  a  shaft  of  light,  every  sentence  a 
loud  clap,  a  peal^^n  the  tempest  of  eloquence,  an- 
nouncing the  ne^M^fcconclusion,  until,  as  the  speaker 
closes,  the  Hall  T^^P^ith  the  loud  torrents  of  com- 
pressed admiration.  Some  of  the  most  nervously  sensi- 
tive of  the  audience  will  not  to-night  sleep  very  soundly, 
or  get  to  sleep  very  early ;  it  is  an  opium-dream,  an 
enchantment,  a  kind  of  fairy  land  through  which  he  led 
them ;  and  those  loud  trumpet  gales  which  rung  lo  Pceans 
around  him,  were  the  modes  of  the  expression  of  their 

popular  sympathy. 

r.  Chapin  is  certainly  one  of  the  most  distinguished 
Pulpit  and  Platform  orators  of  the  day.  He  is  at 
present  Pastor  of  a  Universalist  Society  in  New  York. 
Formerly  he  preached  in  the  Boston  School  street 
Church. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE  BROMFIELD  STREET  CHURCH.  A  REMINISCENCE  OP 
DR.  BEAUMONT.  THE  REV.  JOSEPH  CUMMINGS.  HIS 
STYLE  OF  ORATORY.  GENERAL  REMARKS. 

WERE  any  one  to  ask  me  the  question,  to  what  order 
of  architecture  does  the  Methodist  Church  in  Bromfield 
street  belong,  I  should  be  puzzled  exceedingly;  for 


PEN-PICTURES.  209 

regarded  externally,  a  more  incongruous,  unimposing, 
characterless  building  does  not  "  cumber  the  ground." 
It  is  an  ollapodrida  of  brick,  morte^ftbtfco^rf  wood,  an 
ecclesiastical  monstrosity,  —  ancfflM^nc^^Mi  eye-sore 
to  Mr.  Ruskin,  of  the  Seven  Lamps  of  Architecture,  as, 
indeed,  it  is  to  all  who  regard  the  "  proprieties"  of 
church-building.  But,  fortunately,  it  is  so  situated  that 
hundreds  pass  by  its  door,  ignorant  of  the  neighborhood 
of  a  Church,  and  so,  happily,  lose  the  view  of  this  singu- 
lar and  grotesque  front. 

Having  elsewhere  said  something  on  the  subject  of 
church  architecture,  it  will  not  be  necessary  again  to 
refer  to  it ;  so  le*  us  enter  the  Bromfield  Methodist 
Church,  and  quitting  criticisms  on  dead  walls,  listen  to 
the  living  voice  as  it  speaks  of  the  stone  which  the  build- 
ers did  refuse,  and  which  is  become  the  "  Head  of  the 
corner." 

But  this  much  I  may  say, —  the  interior  of  the  church 
is  far  superior  to  the  outside  in  point  of  arrangement  and 
effect.  It  is  lofty  ;  and  the  ceiling  is  supported  by  slen- 
der pillars  ;  across  the  roof  run  light  beams  of  oak. 
There  are  spacious  galleries ;  comfortable  pews  below ; 
a  good  organ ;  a  capital  player  thereon ;  an  efficient 
choir,  and  a  handsome  pulpit,  ^behind  which  is  the  best 
specimen  of  fresco  painting,  of  its  kind,  in  Boston.  (By 
the  way,  about  the  worst,  is  in  Dr.  Caldicott's  Church  at 
Charlestown.)  So  much  for  the  inside  of  the  Bromfield- 
street  Church. 

As  I  sat,  previous  to  the  commencement  of  the  ser- 
mon, looking  over  some  of  the  glowing  and  glorious 
18* 


210  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  on, 

hymns  of  Charles  Wesley,  my  thoughts  travelled  back  to 
the  time  when  I  last^gat  in  a  Methodist  chapel.  It  was 
hot  in  New,  but  in  QJji  England.  On  that  occasion  the 
preacher  ^f^r. TMHiont,  one  of  the  most  remarkable 
of  living  British  Wesleyan  ministers ;  and  therefore  I 
deem  him  worthy  of  an  incidental  notice. 

Imagine  yourself,  dear  reader,  in  a  crowded  London 
Methodist  Chapel,  in  the  pulpit  of  which  stands  the  min- 
ister whom  I  have  just  named.  He  is  by  no  means 
brilliant  in  appearance,  rather  the  reverse.  Some  per- 
sons might  term  him  slovenly-looking,  and  complain  that 
he  does  not  dress  well ;  —  that,  he  does  not ;  but  he  ad- 
dresses well,  and  that  is  better. 

I  have  little  liking  for  pulpit  fops,  or  pretty  preaching, 
and  far  prefer  roughness  and  raciness  to  smoothness  and 
twaddle.  The  Doctor  commences  his  sermon.  At  first 
we  cannot  conceive  at  what  he  is  driving ;  he  appears  to 
be  struggling  with  some  great,  as  yet  unripe  thought,  — 
as  Hercules  struggled  with  the  serpents.  Soon,  how- 
ever, he  conquers  all  difficulties,  and  flings  out  with  mar- 
vellous facility  idea  upon  idea  ;  aye,  he  flings  them  out ! 
There  is  not  even  the  grace  of  the  sling-motion  in  his 
action ;  but  there  are  stern,  strong,  hard  truths  that  hit 
the  giant  of  error  full  in  the  forehead.  Soon  he  warms 
up ;  his  voice,  rough  and  harsh  from  some  affection  of 
the  palate,  become  familiar,  arid  you  excuse  the  rugged- 
ness  of  tone  for  the  sake  of  the  gems  of  thought.  On 
he  goes, —  and  soon  he  begins  to  perspire  ;  beads, —  dews 
of  thought, —  appear  on  his  forehead,  and  slowly,  slowly 
they  stream  down  and  trickle  over  his  shaggy  eyebrows, 


PEN-PICTURES.  211 

until  the  orator,  in  a  fit  of  pulpit  enthusiasm,  utters  a 
harsher  sentence  than  ever ;  throws  himself  half  out  of 
the  pulpit ;  looks  as  though  he  had  come  from  some 
Russian  bath  reeking  with  moisture  ;  and,  in  the  voice  of 
an  asthmatic  stentor,  roars  —  "  Repent !  " 

Dr.  Beaumont  is  most  exuberant  of  action  in  the  pul- 
pit, and  perspires  prodigiously.  He  has  a  way  of  shak- 
ing his  head  violently,  as  he  leans  over  the  cushion,  and 
on  such  occasions  he  not  unfrequently  sprinkles  the  hear- 
ers immediately  below  him.  A  little  boy  once  remarked 
as  he  removed  the  moisture  from  his  shining  locks  : 
"  Never  mind,  they  are  but  the  droppings  of  the  sanc- 
tuary !  "  —  for  which  witticism  he  got,  very  undeservedly 
I  think,  a  severe  lecture  from  his  matter  of  fact  sire. 

But  I  must  call  back  these  wandering  thoughts,  and 
describe  the  Methodist  minister  of  this  Bromfield-street 
Church,  who  is  by  this  time  in  the  pulpit.  In  point  of 
personal  appearance  he  is  tall,  of  good  figure,  and  has 
one  of  those  grave,  contemplative,  spectacled  faces  that 
indicate  habitual  thought.  He  delivers  the  hymn  with 
much  feeling,  and  after  it  has  been  finely  sung  by  the 
choir,  reads  a  portion  of  Scripture  with  solemn  emphasis. 
A  prayer,  truly  devotional,  follows,  and  then  comes 
another  hymn,  after  which  the  sermon. 

Mr.  Cummings's  discourses  are  all  but  extemporaneous, 
though  there  are  evident  indications  of  careful  previous 
labor  and  finish.  They  are  delivered  in  a  solemn,  but 
somewhat  monotonous  tone,  and  this,  to  a  critical  ear,  is 
certainly  a  drawback.  But  the  style,  the  matter,  is  ex- 
cellent. In  regard  to  illustration,  Mr.  Cummings  is 


212  PULPIT   PORTRAITS:    Oil, 

peculiarly  happy.  Figures  often  abound  in  his  sermons ; 
indeed,  he  is  about  one  of  the  best  analogical  preachers 
I  have  heard  in  America.  And  the  figures  he  uses  are 
not  mere  tropes  of  speech  ;  they  are  at  once  graphic 
delineations  and  perfect  symbols.  You  feel  that  you  un- 
derstand the  subject  better  by  them ;  that  they,  indeed, 
form  a  part  of  the  subject ;  that  they  are  the  body,  con- 
taining the  soul  of  the  discourse.  There  are  some  preach- 
ers who  will  lighten  at  you,  and  thunder  at  you,  and 
meander-rill  you,  and  purple- violet  you.  They  will  send 
forth  a  host  of  figures  to  buzz  about  you  like  flies,  to  an- 
noy you  and  creep  about  you  like  yet  more  loathsome  in- 
sects ;  but  you  feel  all  the  time  that  it  is  labor  thrown 
away ;  that  you,  for  one,  are  certainly  no  nearer  the 
mark ;  nay,  that  the  dizzy  noise  has  perhaps  carried  you 
further  away  from  the  meaning.  Nothing  is  easier,  and 
nothing  is  more  worthless,  than  this  kind  of  preaching, — 
wholly  impressionless  and  pointless  as  it  ever  is  and 
must  be. 

Mr.  Cummings  is,  I  believe,  very  popular  among  the 
people  of  his  connection.  I  do  not  wonder  at  it.  Every 
speaker,  who  in  addition  to  soundness  of  doctrine,  practi- 
cal application,  and  ardent  piety,  can  command  stores  of 
figure,  always  will  be  so.  This  is  the  secret  of  the 
fabulist's  power ;  hence  the  mighty  influence  of  the  para- 
ble ;  hence,  sometimes,  the  force  of  an  allusion  to  some 
wTell-known  object  in  nature,  or  to  some  household  circum- 
stances. To  such  a  mind,  to  one  disposed  to  lay  itself 
out  for  such  illustrations,  the  whole  world  is  a  mighty 
gallery  crowded  with  objects.  Every  history,  every  sci- 


PEN-PICTURES.  213 

ence  furnishes  them ;  every  room  presents  them ;  no  day 
can  pass  without  them.  The  greatest  of  all  lips  have 
seized  truth ,  and  this  method  is  so  simple  that  it  is  not 
denied  to  the  humblest  to  be  somewhat  expert  at  it.  The 
truth  itself  was  perhaps  distant,  and  ideal,  and  only  re- 
motely perceived;  but  the  figure  was  truly  at  once  a 
mirror,  and  an  interpreter.  We  started  with  pleasure 
and  surprise  to  find  a  difficulty  melting  away. 

Mr.  Cummings,  unlike  Dr.  Beaumont,  uses  very  little 
action  in  the  pulpit.  A  gentle  waving  of  the  hand  and 
arm  is  about  all  that  may  be  observed.  He  is  very  flu- 
ent, scarcely  ever  hesitates,  and  invariably  succeeds  in 
keeping  up  the  close  attention  of  his  auditors.  No  one 
who  hears  him  can  for  one  moment  doubt,  that  his  great 
aim  is  to  do  good,  and  that  all  other  aims  are  subsidiary 
to  that  prime  principle  in  a  minister.  As  a  pastor  he  is 
greatly  beloved  by  his  people,  and  few  men  exercise  a 
wider  ministerial  and  personal  influence  among  Wesleyan 
Methodists  than  the  minister  of  Bromfield-street  Church. 


214  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  OR, 


•V.       CHAPTER    XIX. 

FLASHY    PREACHING.        DR.    RICHARD    S.    STORKS.       APPEAR- 
ANCE.      STYLE    OF    PREACHING,  ETC. 

"  AND  do  n't  forget  the  good,  old,  sound  preachers, 
sir,"  said  a  friend  the  other  day,  to  me,  whilst  convers- 
ing with  him  on  the  subject  of  this  series  of  sketches. 
"  And,"  he  added,  "  it  is  but  justice  to  these  pillars  of 
our  church,  that  though  they  do  not  now,  it  may  be, 
flash  as  brilliantly  as  some  of  the  '  new  lights,'  they 
should  not  be  overlooked  in  a  volume  which  professes  to 
sketch  Distinguished  American  Divines."  And  my 
friend  was  in  the  right.  Therefore,  shall  I,  in  this  chap- 
ter, speak  of  one  whose  name  is  a  tower  of  strength,  and 
whose  career  has  been  one  of  honor  and  of  usefulness. 

In  my  sketch  of  Dr.  Baron  Stow,  I  said  that  he  was 
one  of  a  class,  who  are  rather  teachers  than  orators,  of 
men  whose  aim  is  ever  to  give  their  hearers  something 
to  think  of,  not  to  talk  about ;  and  now  I  have  to  sketch 
another  minister,  who  might  come  within  the  same  cate- 
gory. Here  I  would  transfer  to  my  pages  some  remarks 
on  "flashy"  preaching,  which  I  recently  met  with  in  a 
Boston  newspaper,  and  which  are  ad  rem  to  the  matter. 
The  writer  says,  alluding  to  a  popular  misconception  :  — 

"  There  is  a  mode  of  preaching  the  Gospel  at  the 
present  day,  exceedingly  popular,  but  which  we  regard 


PEN-PICTURES.  215 

as  defective  in  its  appropriate  influences.  It  consists  in 
addressing  the  imagination  with  lively  imagery  or  highly 
wrought  pictures,  and  endeavoring  to  awaken  the  emo- 
tions and  affections  through  this,  rather  than  through  the 
reason  by  the  majesty  or  tenderness  of  truth.  We  object 
to  this  mode  of  sermonizing,  because  it  awakens  essen- 
tially the  same  class  of  emotions  that  are  awakened  by 
the  drama  and  romance  ;  and,  therefore,  though  the  truth 
may  be  clearly  exhibited,  it  fails  to  produce  its  legitimate 
gospel  effect.  In  other  words,  while  it  awakens  great  in- 
terest, moves  the  sympathies,  starts  the  tear,  even  agitates 
the  hearer,  it  does  not  deeply  or^permanently  affect  the 
conscience  and  devotional  affections.  It  rather  pleases 
than  benefits.  It  excited,  but  yields  little  Christian  nu- 
triment. As  a  tragedy  seldom  improves  the  morals,  so 
this  picturesque,  enchanting  preaching  seldom  strengthens 
the  Christian  graces.  The  result  lodges  in  the  imagina- 
tion and  taste,  awakening  admiration,  rather  than  the 
conscience  and  heart  of  the  hearer,  —  on  the  general 
principle  that  the  capacity  or  tendency  of  the  mind  most 
active  in  the  production  of  a  sermon  is  usually  the  most 
affected  in  hearing  it. 

"  Reinhard,  formerly  Court  preacher  at  Dresden,  in  his 
*  Letters  and  Confessions,'  translated  from  the  German  by 
the  late  Rev.  Oliver  A.  Taylor,  has  so  happily  expressed 
this  thought  together  with  others  associated  with  it,  alike 
deserving  the  consideration  of  the  ambassador  of  Christ, 
and  those  who  listen  to  his  instructions,  that  I  beg  leave 
to  give  a  short  extract :  — 

" <  He  who  banishes  instruction  from  the  pulpit,  and 


216  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:    OR, 

attempts  to  reduce  everything  to  the  excitement  of  emo 
tion,  robs  the  ministerial  office  of  a  great  part  of  its  use- 
fulness, and  deprives  the  great  mass  of  the  people  of 
almost  every  opportunity  for  the  enlargement  and  cor- 
rection of  their  religious  knowledge.  Moreover,  I  must 
absolutely  deny  the  possibility  of  a  man's  exciting  a  re- 
ligious feeling  and  rendering  it  salutary  and  productive 
of  exalted  effects,  otherwise  than  by  commencing  with 
convincing  instruction,  and  taking  the  way  through  the 
intellect  to  the  heart.  All  his  efforts  to  raise  emotion  by 
operating  upon  the  imagination,  will  result  in  inflaming 
it  and  enkindling  a  w$dfire,  which  can  prove  of  no  ad" 
vantage  to  genuine  piety,  and  may  positively  injure  it. 
A  religious  emotion,  to  be  flalutary  and  improving, 
and  in  a  rational  and  profitable  manner  effect  the  exal- 
tation of  the  mind,  must  be  founded  upon  a  lively 
perception  of  important  truths  vividly  represented.  In- 
deed, it  is  impossible  to  conceive  of  a  discourse,  which 
shall  in  reality  take  hold  of,  awaken  and  inspire  the  man, 
and  prepare  the  way  for,  and  raise  the  emotions  of  the 
heart,  without  instruction.  Now  as  this  instruction  will 
produce  the  most  effect,  if  delivered  with  clearness  and 
proper  arrangement,  it  is  impossible  to  see  why  strict 
method  should  not  be  combined  with  the  object  of  affect- 
ing the  heart. 

While  you  are  meditating  upon  a  subject,  then,  some 
one  will  say,  let  everything  be  arranged  in  its  proper 
place  ;  but  when  you  come  to  write  it  out,  and  dress  up 
this  skeleton  with  skin  and  flesh,  carefully  conceal  the 
various  parts  from  the  audience  addressed,  and  then, 


PEN-PICTURES.  217 

their  eyes  will  not  discover  a  skeleton  without  spirit  and 
life. 

Let  me  tarry  a  while  at  the  image  which  lies  at  the 
foundation  of  this  remark.  Nature  does,  indeed,  cover 
up  the  bony  fabric  of  a  beautiful  body,  with  tender  parts 
of  various  kinds,  and  thereby  impart  to  it  those  powerful 
charms  by  which  it  allures  the  beholder ;  but  does  she, 
in  so  doing,  reduce  it  to  a  mass  of  flesh,  and  make  it 
impossible  for  us  any  longer  to  distinguish  its  single  parts 
and  members,  discover  their  relation  to  each  other,  or 
point  out  their  joints  ?  On  the  other  hand,  is  not  this 
bony  fabric,  which  constitutes  the  firm  basis  of  the  whole, 
so  completely  visible,  that  one  can  readily  see  where 
each  member  begins  .and  ends,  and  how  they  are  all  con- 
nected together ;  and  is  not  this  appropriate  and  natural 
compactness  and  these  regular  proportions,  which  render 
a  beautiful  form  so  pleasing?  Now,  to  continue  the 
image  employed,  a  discourse,  the  whole  organization,  and 
the  skeleton  of  wrhose  thoughts  are  concealed  by  the 
manner  in  which  it  is  written  out,  and  the  language  in 
which  it  is  clothed,  will  not  constitute  a  beautiful  bodyj 
full  of  life  and  motion ;  but  can  be  looked  upon  as  noth- 
ing more  than  an  unformed  and  helpless  mass  of  flesh  j 
which  cannot  be  made  into  anything,  or  be  reckoned 
among  any  known  class  of  forms.  This,  indeed,  is  the 
impression  which  such  discourses  ordinarily  leave  behind 
them.  One  who  listens  to  them,  hears  much  that  is 
beautiful,  but  he  cannot  tell  definitely  in  what  it  consists, 
and  is  unable  to  reduce  it  to  any  clear  and  distinct 
19 


218  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  OR, 

shape.  I  cannot  persuade  myself  that  such  discourses 
ever  accomplish  any  good." 

Very  few  ministers  are  better  known  to  the  religious 
world  than  the  Rev.  Richard  H.  Storrs,  of  Braintree, 
Massachusetts  ;  as  he  is  to  preach,  this  Sabbath  morning, 
in  our  good  city  of  Boston,  let  us  embrace  the  opportu- 
nity of  hearing  him  at  the  Pine  street  church,  the  pastor 
of  which,  by  the  way,  will  hereafter  form  the  subject  of 
a  separate  article. 

As  we  enter  the  House  of  God,  the  preluding  tones 
of  the  organ  are  softly  floating  through  the  building  and 
already  is  the  minister  in  the  pulpit.  Presently,  the 
music  having  ceased,  he  rises  and  invokes  the  aid  of  the 
great  Head  of  the  Church.  His  appearance  at  once 
impresses  you.  It  is  emphatically  tfcat  of  "  an  old  dis- 
ciple." Over  a  sallow,  time-furrowed  face  and  forehead, 
wave  hairs  which  have  grown  gray  in  the  Master's  ser- 
vice, and  eyes  somewhat  dimmed  by  age,  though  still 
retaining  much  of  their  old  fire's  glance,  from  their 
deep  orbits  through  aiding  spectacles.  The  nose  is 
aquiline,  the  lips  a  trifle  retracted  and  the  chin  long. 
Add  to  these  features  a  spare,  wiry  figure,  slightly 
bowed  by  time  and  toil,  you  have  formed  some  idea  of 
the  outer-man  of  the  Reverend  Richard  H.  Storrs. 

The  sermon  is  on  a  subject  which,  as  it  should  be,  has 
been  preached  on  time  over  and  again,  and  therefore 
may  reasonably  be  supposed  to  possess  no  points  of 
novelty  such  as  would  create  a  "  sensation"  or  form 
"  striking  features."  But  the  most  familiar  subject  may 


PEN-PICTURES.  219 

be  so  handled  by  a  powerful  and  original  mind  as  to  sur- 
round it  with  a  charm  that  is  worth  far  more  than  all  the 
garnishings  of  oratory.  And  such  was  the  case  in  this 
instance,  for  seldom  have  I  heard  a  sermon  whose  ar- 
rangements in  all  respects  were  so  perfect.  So  natural 
were  its  divisions,  that  the  various  sections  appeared  to 
self-arrange  themselves.  And  then  there  were  no  insane 
attempts  at  rhetorical  display,  none  of  those  pretty  in- 
genuities in  which  some  preachers  indulge,  deluding 
themselves,  as  they  do  so,  into  the  belief  that  they  are 
original,  when  they  are  only  absurd.  How  astonishing 
it  is  that  many  young  preachers  will  be  wise  above  what 
is  written.  Such  remind  me  of  a  fellow  in  Devonshire, 
who  in  olden  times  went  to  a  magistrate  for  the  purpose 
of  getting  a  license  to  preach.  "Can  you  read?" 
asked  the  magistrate,  merely  as  a  matter  of  form,  for  he 
never  supposed  that  any  one  would  attempt  to  speak  who 
was  not  master  of  at  least  the  alphabet ;  but  a  reply  in 
the  negative  startled  him  from  His  propriety.  "  Not 
read ! "  he  exclaimed  —  "  why,  how  then,  can  you  preach 
a  sermon  from  a  text  ?  "  "  Oh  ! "  replied  the  wrould-be 
Divine  —  "  Mother  reads,  and  I  'splains  and  'spounds." 
And  so  it  is  in  the  case  'of  some  pulpit-aspirants  I  wot 
of,  who  "  'splain  and  'spound  "  with  a  vengeance. 

The  worst  of  it  is  that  these  young  gentlemen  are  apt 
to  bore  one  into  giving  opinions  of  their  productions. 
Perhaps  the  best  rebuke  ever  given  to  one  of  this  genus 
was  given  by  Robert  Hall  to  a  young  minister  who 
pressed  him  very  much  to  say  what  he  thought  of  the 
sermon  to  which  the  great  man  had  that  morning  listened. 


220  PULPIT  PORTRAITS  :    OR, 

For  a  time,  Hall  tried  to  shirk  the  question,  but  on  being 
hard  pressed  he  exclaimed :  — 

"  Well,  Mr. ,  there  was  one  fine  passage,  sir,  in 

your  sermon,  one  very  fine  passage,  sir." 

"  Ah,"  cried  the  youth,  rubbing  his  hands,  "  and  pray, 
Mr.  Hall,  what  might  that  have  been  ?  " 

""Why,  sir,  your  passage  from  the  pulpit,  sir,"  re- 
turned the  irritated  great  man. 

To  return  to  Dr.  Storrs.  Unlike  the  sermons  of  many 
eminent  Theologians,  his  was  anything  but  dry.  Book- 
men are  apt  to  be  dull  preachers,  but  though  in  cases  of 
controversy  on  Bible  matters  no  man  stands  higher,  as  an 
authority,  than  Dr.  Storrs.  The  sin,  or  failing,  rather, 
of  heaviness,  cannot  be  laid  to  his  charge.  In  the  ser- 
mon in  question,  he  frequently  glowed  and  sparkled,  and 
at  the  conclusion  of  his  sermon,  when  he  described  the 
final  glory  of  the  redeemed  and  their  position  "  high  and 
glorious,  on  thrones  above  those  of  the  angels,"  he  was 
eloquent  in  the  full  sense  of  that  much  abused  word. 
And  yet,  though  every  sentence  betrayed  profundity  of 
thought  and  a  complete  knowledge  of  the  subject,  it  was 
pervaded  throughout  by  the  exquisite  charm  of  simplicity. 
Learning  never  obtruded  itself,  though  we  all  felt  it  had 
been  employed.  The  child  might  have  understood  it, 
the  old  man  have  profited  by  it. 

Dr.  Storrs  has  long  occupied,  and  happily  still  occu- 
pies a  very  influential  position  in*  the  body  of  which  he 
is  a  prominent  member.  In  associations,  conventions, 
and  assemblies  of  all  kinds,  his  opinion  is  regarded  as 
of  great  weight.  For  over  fifty  years  he  has  been  pastor 


PEN-PICTURES.  221 

over  ihe  Brain  tree  church,  and  many  has  been  the  reve- 
rend head  which  he  has  seen  laid  low  during  his  own 
protracted  career.  He  has  in  the  ministry  at  Brooklyn, 
New  York,  a  son,  who  is  one  of  the  most  rising  and 
eloquent  men  of  the  day,  so  that  when  his  own  work  is 
over,  in  all  probability,  the  honored  name  of  Storrs  will 
not  be  absent  from  the  list  of  pulpit  orators.  But  may 
the  period  be  long  distant  when  the  subject  of  our  sketch 
shall  be  called  from  his  toil  to  his  triumph, 

"  And  wave  bis  palm  and  wear  his  crown, 
And  with  the  Elders  cast  them  down." 


CHAPTER   XX. 

HENRY  WARD  BEECHER.  PLYMOUTH  CHURCH.  APPEAR- 
ANCE AND  STYLE  OF  THE  PREACHER.  SKETCH  OF 
REV.  HUGH  M'NEILE,  OF  LIVERPOOL. 

ALREADY  have  I,  in  this  volume,  sketched  two  mem- 
bers of  that  family  composed  of  ministers,  authors  and 
authoresses,  which  rejoices  in  the  name  of  Beecher. 
And  when,  a  short  time  since  I  informed  a  friend  that  I 
intended  to  limn  the  lineaments  of  a  third,  he  shook  his 
head,  and  observed  that  he  feared  my  book  might  be  too 
19* 


222  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  OR, 

Beechery.  Well,  I  will  take  the  chance  of  that,  reader, 
but  I  have  little  fear,  myself,  on  such  a  score.  There 
are  many,  to  whom  I  think  a  sketch  of  that  almost  uni- 
versal favorite,  Henry  Ward  Beecher,  will  be  acceptable. 

Doubtless  if  the  family  to  which  the  subject  of  our 
sketch  belongs  had  'lived  in  the  old  times  of  foray,  feud, 
and  raid,  it  would,  from  its  energy  and  decision,  its 
fierce  battlings  with  vested  wrongs,  and  its  many  tri- 
umphs in  well  foughten  fields  have  earned  the  name  of 
the  Bold  Beechers.  The  head  of  it  is,  as  we  have  seen 
elsewhere,  a  veteran  crusader  in  a  cause  which  has  for 
its  aim  the  destruction  of  drunkenness,  and  the  elevation 
to  sobriety  of  those  who  have  sunk  beneath  the  attacks 
of  the  Giant  Despair  of  Intemperance.  And  well  and 
worthily  have  the  children  seconded  the  efforts  of  their 
sire  !  At  this  moment  it  would  be  difficult  to  name  an- 
other family  which  comprises  among  its  members,  male 
and  female,  so  much  talent,  and  talent  employed,  too,  in 
the  cause  of  humanity.  For  my  own  part  I  have  no 
idea  of  waiting  until  people  are  dead  before  I  render 
my  tribute  of  applause  and  admiration ;  and  while  I 
would  not  bespatter  any  man  or  woman  with  fulsome  ad- 
ulation, so  neither  would  I  from  a  false  delicacy  withhold 
from  them  what  credit  is  justly  their  due.  Therefore,  I 
now  proceed  to  speak  in  terms  of  eulogy  of  one,  than 
whom  no  clergyman  in  America  is  more  popular,  or  who 
promises  to  accomplish  a  greater  amount  of  good. 

It  was  a  night  of  darkness  and  of  storm  when  I  went 
first  to  hear  Henry  Ward  Beecher ;  but  "  the  fame  of 
his  name"  had  reached  me  far  over  the  water  in  another 


PEN-PICTURES.  223 

land,  and  a  blinding  snow  could  not  detain  me  at  home 
when  such  a  man  was  to  preach.  On  reaching  Plymouth 
church,  in  Orange-street,  Brooklyn,  N.  Y.,  I  found 
crowds  pressing  into  the  church,  although  it  yet  wanted 
more  than  half  an  hour  of  the  time  of  commencing  the 
service.  The  inside  of  the  house  was  crammed. 

Now  a  man  who  can  gather  round  his  pulpit,  Sunday 
after  Sunday,  such  an  audience  as  I  saw,  must  be  a  no 
ordinary  character.  The  Plymouth  church  is  a  very 
spacious  and  handsome  structure,  and  I  was  informed 
that  when  Mr.  Beecher  preaches  it  is  always  filled.  At 
this  I  do  not  wonder,  for  few  men  possess  such  powers 
of  attraction,  especially  as  regards  the  young.  This 
great  church  is  a  frightful  place  for  a  man  to  deliver 
himself  in,  —  a  frightful  place,  unless  he  can  so  charge 
his  words,  that  instead  of  gazing  round  upon  vast  va- 
cancy, instead  of  giving  forth  his  words  to 

"  Bellow  the  vast  and  boundless  deep," 

they  shall  be  so  attractive  as  to  crowd  the  spacious  place. 
How  many  men,  think  you,  could  be  found  to  fill  this 
church  ?  How  many  preachers  could  attract  so  immense 
a  multitude  ?  but  I  have  threaded  my  way  to  the  place, 
when  not  only  the  pews,  but  the  aisles  and  every  other 
available  space  was  occupied.  The  man  who  did  this, 
and  one  of  the  very  few  that  have  the  power  to  do  this, 
I  believe  in  all  America,  is  Henry  Ward  Beecher. 

The  preacher  rises  from  his  seat  and  stands  before  us. 
At  once  you  perceive  that  he  has  the  Beecher  face,  the 
large  liquid  eyes,  the  full,  lower  part  of  the  face,  and 


224  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  OR, 

the  expansive  brow.  He  appears  more  youthful  than  I 
had  supposed,  judging  from  his  wide-spread  celebrity. 
Nay,  he  looks,  in  some  respects,  almost  boyish.  There 
is  great  power  in  that  fine  open  face,  much  speculation 
in  those  eyes,  a  world  of  sarcasm  and  humor  in  that 
mouth.'  You  can  see  at  once  that  his  face  is  the  index 
of  a  fearless,  generous,  liberal  soul,  and  such  I  have 
reason  to  believe  Mr.  Beecher  possesses.  On  the  whole, 
as  you  look  at  his  face  and  person  you  cannot  but  come 
to  the  conclusion  that  a  man  of  mark  is  before  yc^i. 

His  voice  is  rich  and  powerful,  and  he  reads  well. 
But  let  us  listen  as  he  discourses,  and  glad  are  we  that 
he  extemporizes.  Did  he  read  his  sermons,  we  venture 
to  assert  that  he  would  not  be  half  so  effective  as  he  is. 
We  have  heard  that  in  private  life  our  preacher  is  gentle 
and  playful ;  and  you  will  find  some  difficulty  in  con- 
ceiving, that  the  man  so  companionable  in  the  parlor, 
romping  with  children,  bearing  any  amount  of  contra- 
diction, is  the  same  you  behold  so  apparently  bold  and 
vehement.  Unconquerable  will,  and  unconquerable  gen- 
tleness ;  these  are  prominent-  attributes  of  his  mind. 

I  have  fancied  that  Mr.  H.  W.  Beecher  has  two 
methods  of  addressing  his  hearers:  his  morning  dis- 
courses are, 

"'.*  "  Orient  pearls  at  randpm  strung," 

In  the  evening,  he  is  frequently  diffuse  alike  in  ideas 
and  utterance,  dilates,  we  should  say,  too  much ;  but  in 
the  morning,  as  we  have  heard  him,  he  more  usually 
addresses  the  experimental  life  of  the  Christian ;  he 


PEN-PICTURES.  225 

speaks  more  pertinently,  his  remarks  are  more  "like 
goads."  They  are  more  rememberable  ;  they  are  more 
suggestive^  they  appeal  more  to  general  information 
and  knowledge.  Perhaps  something  of  this  is  usually 
the  case  with  extemporaneous  preachers.  Morning  ser- 
vices have  more  of  gentleness :  the  audience  is  smaller, 
more  Christian,  and  more  loving.  It  is  almost  a  test  of 
a  minister's  Christian  life  —  does  he  find  himself  more 
at  home  preaching  morning  or  evening  ?  The  holier 
heart  will  love  the  morning  usually  the  best,  for  it  will 
address  the  nobler  auditory :  in  the  evening  there  is 
more  of  human  passion,  more  of  effort,  more  of  display. 
John  would  preach  best  in  the  morning,  talking  to  little 
children ;  Peter  would  preach  best  at  night,  —  impulsive, 
fervid,  vehement.  We  love  our  preacher's  morning  hor- 
tations  best ;  but  the  evening  is  the  time  of  crowds  and 
thronging  multitudes ;  and  then  we  can  very  well  be- 
lieve that  he,  unconsciously  to  himself,  throws  aside  the 
axiom  and  the  hint,  and  commits  himself  to  a  stream  of 
declamatory  fervor.  He  does  not  speak  without  in- 
structing ;  and  even  in  the  very  height  of  his  heat  and 
tempest  of  speech,  every  word  does  appear  to  be  bathed 
in  common  sense.  Common  sense  is  the  great  charac- 
teristic of  his  style  :  he  appeals  to  the  understanding. 
Your  teacher  is  perfectly  honest  with  you ;  he  does  not 
perplex  you  with  technicalities  ;  every  word  is  downright 
and  plain.  No  wonder  that  the  poor  and  illiterate  as 
well  as  the  rich  and  learned  flock  to  hear  him.  Oh, 
what  a  relief  it  must  be  to  listen  to  a  man,  a  capable 
man,  who  points  every  word  so  that  it  tells ;  who  sees, 


226  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  OR, 

and  believes  himself  all  that  he  says,  and  who  enters  the 
understandings  of  all  his  people  by  a  path  of  light. 

Our  preacher  is  sometimes  warm,  vehement,  bold,  and 
impassioned ;  sometimes  quiet,  sententious,  and  slow ; 
sometimes  figurative,  sometimes  abounding  with  genuine 
humor,  occasionally  he  flings  out  such  home  truths  as 
the  following,  which  occur  in  his  remarks  at  the  Anni- 
versary of  the  New  York  Five  Points  Mission : 

"  When  Christ  went  where  there  were  sick,  he  healed 
them ;  where  there  was  actual  want,  he  created  bread, 
and  came  down  to  their  physical  condition.  Take  the 
gospel  to  the  miserable  outcasts  of  our  city,  and  no  man 
can  preach  it  unless  he  does  more.  It  is  as  though  he 
made  a  mark  in  the  sand,  and  the  first  tide  washes  it 
away.  Preach  the  gospel,  and  the  hunger  of  the  man 
makes  him  forget  it.  There  is  a  great  deal  more  gospel 
in  a  loaf  of  bread,  sometimes,  than  in  an  old  dry  sermon. 
If  I  go  to  a  man  and  bring  to  him  in  his  want  ever  so 
much  philosophy,  he  will  not  hear  it ;  if  I  come  down 
and  bring  him  bread  and  clothes  and  medicine,  this  will 
give  him  a  correct  idea  of  the  gospel,  one  which  he  can 
appreciate  and  understand." 

We  may,  in  short,  generalize  Henry  Ward  Beecher 
beneath  one  characterization ;  he  strikes  us  as  a  genuine 
man,  hating  all  shows  and  shams,  and  is  not  only  a  lover 
of  the  truth,  but  one  willing  to  make  any  sacrifice  to  up- 
hold it  and  justice. 

A  writer  in  the  Illustrated  Magazine,  speaking  of  the 
Eev.  H.  W.  Beecher  says  :  — 

"  His  mode  of  preparation  for  his  pulpit  labor  differs 


PEN-PICTURES.  227 

very  materially  from  that  of  the  majority  of  preachers. 
We  have  already  stated,  that  when  at  college  he  studied 
loth  books  and  men;  in  his  preparations  for  the  pulpit 
he  seems  to  study  men  rather  than  books.  During  the 
week  he  visits  among  all  classes  of  persons,  noticing 
their  peculiarities  of  character,  and  ascertaining  their 
mental  and  moral  condition  and  necessities.  On  Sunday 
morning  —  so  it  is  said  —  he  draws  out  upon  paper  the 
outline  of  his  sermon,  and  goes  frpm  his  study  to  the 
pulpit,  when  the  ink  is  scarcely  dry  upon  his  paper,  and 
while  his  thoughts  are  fresh  in  his  mind.  An  hour's  nap 
and  a  slight  repast  in  the  afternoon  being  taken,  he  pre- 
pares in  like  manner  for  his  evening  sermon,  and  goes 
again  before  a  congregation  of  upwards  of  2,000  per- 
sons,  the  majority  of  whom  lean  forward  m~l)reaihlfcss 
silence  to  delineations  of  character,  pathetic  appeals, 
and  exposures  of  popular  evils,  such  as  few  besides  him- 
self can  give. 

u  Mr.  Beecher  paid  a  very  short  visit  to  the  metropolis 
of  England  in  1852,  and  spent  a  few  days  also  in  Paris. 
During  his  stay  in  London,  he  won  '  golden  opinions ' 
from  the  few  with  whom  he  had  intercourse.  One  of 
these  few,  an  admirable  judge  of  men  and  of  preaching, 
says  of  him :  *  Mr.  Henry  Ward  Beecher  is  by  far  the 
most  amusing  and  fascinating  American  it  has  ever  been 
our  lot  to  meet.  He  is  a  mass  of  flaming  fire  —  restless, 
fearless,  brilliant  —  a  mixture  of  the  poet,  the  orator, 
and  the  philosopher,  such  as  we  have  seldom,  if  ever, 
found  in  any  other  man  to  the  same  extent.  He  is  viva- 
cious beyond  even  the  temperature  of  Paris,  and  mirth- 


228  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  OR, 

ful  even  to  wildness,  seeming  not  to  know  that  there  is 
such  a  thing  as  care  or  sorrow  in  the  world.' " 

Very  recently,  members  of  the  Rev.  Henry  Ward 
Beecher's  church  have  presented  him  with  a  sum  of 
money,  that  he  may  build  himself  a  country  house.  This 
is  as  it  should  be. 

Let  me  here  give  an  episodical  notice  of  an  eminent 
British  Preacher,  of  whom,  in  regard  of  energy  and 
popularity  Henry  Ward  Beecher  somewhat  reminds  us. 
I  allude  to  the  celebrated  Hugh  McNeile  of  Liverpool, 
whose  name  must  be  familiar  to  many  readers  in  America, 
and  who  is,  perhaps,  at  this  moment,  the  most  popular 
preacher  of  the  establishment  in  England. 

That  strange  country  which  boasts  of  a  Grattan,  a  Cur- 
ran,  an  Emmett,  a  Moore,  and  of  many  of  the  brightest 
stars  in  the  hemisphere  of  genius,  claims  Hugh  McNeile 
as  one  of  her  most  gifted  sons :  and  he  does  no  discredit 
to  the  land  of  his  birth  ;  for  he  possesses  all  that  impet- 
uosity of  temperament,  that  versatility  of  talent,  that 
exuberance  of  imagination,  and  that  affluence  of  imagery, 
which  have  characterized  some  of  the  most  celebrated 
of  the  children  of  the  Green  Isle.  Ballycastle,  a  place 
near  Belfast,  was  his  birthplace.  Dublin,  was  the  spot 
where  his  days  of  pupilage  were  passed.  London  was, 
for  a  time,  the  field  in  which  he  battled  for  name  and 
fame;  and,  he  is  now  the  "  observed  of  all  observers" 
in  the  town  of  Liverpool. 

For  a  time,  he  was  one  of  the  most  popular  preachers 
of  the  London  pulpit.  That  was  nearly  twenty  years 
ago.  Hither  he  had  come  from  the  Irish  Metropolis, 


PEN-PICTURES.  229 

with  the  prestige  of  an  Hibernian  success  almost  unpar- 
alleled, and  with  all  the  collateral  influence  which  a  re- 
lationship to  the  celebrated  Archbishop  Magee  could 
give  him  ;  he  having  married  that  Prelate's  daughter. 

Dr.  McNeile  now  rode  on  the  tide  of  success.  His 
youth,  his  person,  his  uncommon  talents,  his  untamed 
energy,  drew,  Sunday  after  Sunday,  admiring  crowds. 
From  the  peer  to  the  parvenu,  all  were  loud  in  their 
praises  of  the  young  Irish  preacher.  Ladies  were  en- 
raptured with  his  florid  descriptions,  his  poetical  meta- 
phors, and  his  rhetorical  flowers.  Stiff  churchmen  were 
delighted  by  his  bold  and  fearless  advocacy  of  their  doc- 
trines ;  and  that  vast  and  non-descript  class  of  persons, 
who  go  wherever  a  popular  preacher  officiates,  whatever 
his  creed  may  be,  followed  in  the  train,  and  lauded  him 
to  the  skies.  Brilliant  was  his  career;  still  more  /brill- 
iant was  the  vista  of  the  future  which  stretched  out  be- 
fore him.  But  alas !  the  public  is  a  fickle  animal,  and 
popular  applause  is  as  variable 

"  As  the  shade 
By  the  light  quivering  aspen  made : " 

something  new  was  the  great  want  of  the  day  then,  as  it 
is  now,  and  novelty  will  always  carry  every  thing  before 
it.  No  matter  how  absurd  a  creed  is  —  let  it  be  but 
strange  and  startling,  and  it  is  certain  to  attract.  The 
greatest  favorite  of  the  public,  unless  he  has  the  tact 
to  vary  his  attractions,  will  in  the  end,  find  himself 
lying  high  and  dry  on  the  beach  of  neglect  and  forget- 
fulness.  And  this  will  be  the  case  all  the  sooner,  if  it 
20 


230  PULPIT   PORTRAITS:    OR* 

should  happen  that  a  counter  attraction  is  offered  to  the 
senses  of  the  "  million."  So  it  happened  in  the  instance 
of  Hugh  McNeile.  Not  gradually,  but  all  at  once, 
empty  seats  were  to  be  seen  in  his  church,  where  of  late, 
pews  had  been  at  a  premium.  The  fees  to  the  sexton 
became  alarmingly  small,  and  the  face  of  the  beadle  be- 
came strangely  lugubrious.  Fortune,  proverbially  fickle, 
in  never  more  decided  manner  exemplified  her  attribute. 
But  what  caused  the  defection  from  the  quondam  favor- 
ite ?  Had  his  energies  declined  ?  By  no  means. 
Were  his  sentences  less  skilfully  balanced,  or  his  periods 
less  carefully  rounded  ?  Nothing  of  the  sort.  Had  he 
promulgated  heretical  doctrines  or  enunciated  strange 
opinions  which  were  at  variance  with  the  Bible  ?  Far 
from  it.  Was  his  daily  life  inconsistent  with  his  public 
ministrations  ?  No  one  could  assert  that.  Yet,  from 
some  cause  or  other,  the  influence  he  once  possessed  was 
clearly  all  but  gone.  The  magnet  had  lost  its  attraction, 
and  the  human  filings  had  ceased  to  cling  to  its  pole. 
The  reason  of  all  this  was  the  simple  fact  that  there  were 
now  "  two  Richmonds  in  the  field."  Another  wonderful 
man  had  ascended  the  London  pulpit  stairs,  and  by  his 
very  eccentricities  of  thought  and  action,  was  now  carry- 
ing all  before  him.  The  new  comet,  blazing  with  won- 
drous brilliancy,  a  very  gem  in  the  heaven  of  intellect, 
attracted  every  eye  and  dazzled  all  by  its  strange  splen- 
dor. The  Irishman's  star  "  paled  its  ineffectual  fires," 
as  the  Scottish  meteor  flashed  through  the  firmament. 
But  transient  indeed  was  that  glitter  and  glory :  in  the 
days  of  which  we  speak,  however,  its  melancholy  ex- 


PEN-PICTURES.  231 

tinguishment  was  not  at  all,  or  but  very  dimly  prognos- 
ticated ;  yet  whilst  it  lasted,  nothing  could  exceed  the 
enthusiasm  of  those  who  watched  the  phenomenon.  Ed- 
ward Irving,  and  Hugh  McNeile,  like  two  stars,  could 
not  shine  in  one  sphere.  This,  McNeile  had  the  pene- 
tration to  discover  before  he  wholly  lost  the  ground  he 
had  previously  gained.  The  partial  withdrawal  of  pub- 
lic favor  and  popularity,  must  have  galled  one  of  so 
susceptible  a  temperament  as  himself,  for  no  philosophy, 
we  think,  can  entirely  reconcile  a  man  of  genius  to  such 
a  change.  What  course  aid  he  pursue  ?  He  well  knew 
that  the  labor  "of  Sisyphus  was  an  easy  task  compared 
to  that  of  him  who  should  strive  to  regain  lost  popularity 
in  London.  But  there  were  "  fresh  fields  and  pastures 
new"  in  which  he  might  range,  and  so,  preferring  rather 
to  rule  absolutely  than  to  share  a  divided  crown,  he  left 
his  rival  in  full  possession  of  the  public  ear,  and  quitted 
London  for  Liverpool;  and  in  the  Northern  Metropolis 
of  Commerce  he  has  ever  since  remained,  exercising 
perhaps  a  greater  influence  within  its  boundaries,  than 
any  one  other  of  its  inhabitants  —  its  chief  officer  not 
excepted.  It  has  been  said,  and  with  truth,  that  Dr. 
McNeile  is  "monarch  of  all  he  surveys,"  in  his  particu- 
lar sphere  of  action.  His  will  is  indisputable,  and  his 
word  is  law.  Warwick  was  not  more  celebrated  as  a 
King-maker,  than  is  Dr.  McNeile  as  a  manufacturer  of 
Liverpool  Mayors.  Out  of  the  pulpit  as  well  as  in  it 
he  is  all  powerful,  and  even  the  ladies  of  Liverpool  ac- 
knowledge and  bow  to  the  authority  of  their  idol,  for 
little  short  of  an  object  of  idolatry  is  he  to  the  fair  por- 


232  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  OR, 

tion  of  his  flock.  And  this  is  not  in  the  least  to  be 
wondered  at,  for  seldom,  if  ever,  has  the  pulpit  been 
occupied  by  one  who,  in  his  own  person,  contains  so 
many  attractions,  and  whose  mind  is  of  so  exalted  an 
order. 

That  we  may  convey  to  our  readers  a  correct  idea  of 
the  "  outward  man"  of  this  celebrated  Divine,  let  us 
visit  his  church.  We  have  threaded  the  busy  streets  of 
Liverpool,  and  arrive  at  the  building  where  he  officiates, 
full  half  an  hour  before  the  tvc/e  appointed  for  commenc- 
ing the  service.  But  difficu*  indeed  is  it  to  gain  ad- 
mission, and  still  more  arduous  is  the  endeavor  to  leave 
the  thronged  aisles,  and  secure  a  snug  pew. 

Still  increases  the  crowd,  until  at  length  the  spacious 
building  is  literally  crammed  with  humanity  ;  the  bon- 
neted portion  of  the  congregation  being  evidently  in  the 
majority,  as  usual.  And  a  perfect  blaze  of  beauty  is 
presented  by  this' assemblage  of  Lancashire  Witches. 
It  is  not,  however,  exactly  the  place  or  time,  to  indulge 
in  criticisms  on  countenances,  so,  with  an  effort  we  fix 
our  eyes  on  our  prayer-book,  strive  to  check  our  wan- 
dering thoughts,  and  join,  we  trust  sincerely,  in  the  de- 
votional exercises  of  the  evening. 

The  prayers  are  ended,  a  hymn  is  being  sung,  and 
whilst  its  last  line  lingers  on  the  lips  of  the  congregation, 
the  minister  of  the  place  appears  in  the  pulpit.  A 
glance  tells  us  that  McNeile  is  before  us,  for  portraits 
innumerable  have  made  us  familiar  with  the  exact  fea- 
tures of  his  countenance  —  and  a  significant  countenance 
it.  is! 


PEN-PICTURES.  233 

Tall,  but  not  stout,  is  the  figure  of  Dr.  McNeile,  and 
very  graceful  does  it  look,  attired  as  it  is  in  the  flowing 
robes  of  the  Church.  But  the  face  is  what  rivets  one's 
attention,  by  its  remarkable  charm.  I  will  endeavor  to 
describe  it. 

Phrenologists  might  fall  into  fits  of  rapture,  when  sur- 
veying the  lofty  and  expansive  forehead  of  our  subject, 
and  painters  might  rdjfrkje  at  the  bold  sweep  of  the  now 
almost  white  hair,  which  partially  overshadows  it,  and 
which  is  so  carelessly,  vet  so  picturesquely  disposed. 
But  the  eyes,  certainly,  to%he  great  majority  of  observ- 
ers, Would  form,  the  chief  points  of  attraction.  These 
are  wonderfully  fine ;  large,  dark,  and  glowing,  yet  pos- 
sessing a  peculiar  gazelle-like  softness,  they  surpass,  in 
beauty,  all  other  eyes  which  we  have  seen  in  mortal 
orbits.  There  is,  too,  when  their  owner  is  pouring  forth 
his  eloquent  denunciations,  a  defiant  boldness  in  them, 
which  is  haply  characteristic  of  the  speaker's  mind. 
And  remarkably  varied  is  their  expression.  Now  soft 
and  dewy,  as  those  of  the  gazelle's,  and  which,  without 
any  straining  after  similes,  they  resemble,  now  flashing 
with  indignant  fire ;  now  beaming  with  tenderness,  and 
anon  possessing  a  sternness  which  makes  -one  almost  quail 
beneath  their  gaze.  The  nose  is  finely  formed,  the 
mouth  most  delicately  chiselled,  and,  like  the  eyes,  ca- 
pable of  a  vast  variety  of  expression.  Who  that  has 
seen  and  heard  McNeile  has  not  noted  how  scornfully 
the  upper  lip  can  curl,  or  how  sweet  is  the  smile  which 
at  other  times  lingers  there.  The  complexion  is  a  mix- 
ture of  pure  white  and  red,  and,  take  Dr.  McNeile  alto- 
20* 


234  PULPIT   PORTRAITS   I    OR, 

gether,  it  would  be  difficult  to  discover  another  in  whom 
fine  mental  and  physical  qualifications  so  happily  meet 
and  combine. 

How  often  does  it  occur  —  and  every  person's  expe- 
rience proves  it  —  that  a  single  defect  mars  a  whole 
cluster  of  excellences.  The  peacock  attracts  us  by  its 
green  and  golden  plumage,  but  scares  us  by  the  harsh- 
ness and  dissonance  of  his  cry.  jjkart  not,  reader ;  we 
have  not  the  slightest  idea  of  associating  the  manly  at- 
tractions of  McNeile  with  the  .glittering  glory  of  a  bird. 
What  we  mean  is  that,  in  m^ny  cases,  the  disagreeable 
voice  of  a  minister  alone  banishes  from  our  minds  all  the 
favorable  impressions  which  his  personal  appearance  had 
excited.  It  is  not  so,  however,  in  the  instance  of  our 
present  subject.;  the  tone  is  to  the  full  as  harmonious  as 
we  might  have  been  led  to  expect  from  the  appearance 
of  the  instrument. 

To  drop  metaphor,  the  voice  of  Dr.  McNeile  is  won- 
derfully fine,  and  is  as  superior  to  that  of  any  other  per- 
son we  have  ever  heard,  as  the  tones  of  the  organ  is  to 
that  of  any  other  musical  instrument.  To  thoroughly 
understand  what  a  voice  it  is,  it  must  be  heard,  —  for  how 
can  a  pen  hope  to  describe  the  peculiarities  of  sound  ? 
Suffice  it  to  say,  that  all  who  have  heard  McNeile  agree 
in  asserting  that  no  pulpit  orator  of  our  day  possesses  so 
remarkable  a  vocal  organ.  At  times  its  tones  are  music 
itself;  and  on  no  occasion  are  they  harsh  or  discordant. 
There  is  a  majesty,  too,  in  his  manner,  which  wonderfully 
adds  to  the  effect  of  his  utterance.  His  action  is  ener- 
getic, yet  graceful ;  and  dignified,  though  simple ;  and 


PEN-PICTURES.  235 

whilst  exhibiting  the  graces  of  oratory,  he  never  degen- 
erates into  feebleness,  or  disgusts  with  strainings  after 
effect.  His  vigorous  mind  preserves  him  from  the  former 
evil,  and  his  strong  good  sense  effectually  prevents  him 
from  nauseating  us  with  the  latter. 

No  one  can  be  inattentive,  we  think,  whilst  McNeile 
is  preaching.  The  very  first  sentence  he  utters  secures 
attention,  and  each  succeeding  remark  increases  it.  The 
great  feature  of  his  oratory  is  boldness  —  boldness,  per- 
haps arising  as  much  from  a  consciousness  of  his  own 
powers,  as  from  a  conviction  that  he  is  uttering  great 
truths.  But  with  all  our  respect  and  admiration  for  Dr. 
McNeile,  we'do  not  consider  him  to  be  a  deep  thinker  — 
there  is  great  talent,  but  little  profundity  in  his  pulpit 
discourses  —  and,  popular  as  he  is,  we  venture  to  say 
that  he  shines  less  in  the  pulpit  than  on  the  platform. 
There  he  is  at  home,  for  released  from  those  trammels 
which  the  clergyman  must  feel  around  him  in  the  sacred 
desk,  he  can  give  a  loose  rein  to  his  impetuous  temper, 
and  allow  his  eloquence  to  take  broader  and  bolder 
flights.  Who  that  has  seen  him  on  the  platform  of  Exe- 
ter Hall,  and  there  witnessed  his  form  dilate,  and  his 
eye  kindle,  as  he  launched  forth  the  thunderbolts  of  his 
eloquent  indignation  against  the  Romish  Church,  will  not 
agree  with  us  in  thinking  that,  great  as  he  is  in  his 
church  at  Liverpool,  he  is  still  greater  as  the  orator  of 
the  public  meeting,  or  the  controversialist  of  the  Theo- 
logical Arena. 


236  PULPIT  PORTKAITS:   OR. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

A  CLUSTER  OF  CHURCHES.  MOUNT  VERNON  CHURCH.  THE 
CHOIR.  CONGREGATIONAL  SINGING.  THE  REV.  E.  N. 
KIRK.  SKETCH  OF  HON  .'  AND  REV.  BAPTIST  W.  NOEL. 

WHAT  a  cluster  of  churches !  This  surely  cannot  be 
the  "bad  eminence"  of  which  we  have  heard  so  much, 
for  on  this  hill-top  are  five  or  six  places  of  religious  wor- 
ship almost  crowding  upon  each  other.  We  are  now 
standing  in  front  of  one,  rich  in  Gothic  adornments,  which 
a  friend  beside  us,  who  is  somewhat  strongly  tinctured 
with  the  rigid  simplicity  of  Puritanism  pronounces  to  be 
too  ornate  for  a  Temple  dedicated  to  the  worship  of 
God.  With  him,  in  this  opinion,  we  cannot  agree.  We 
have,  we  confess  it,  a  liking  for  the  munificence  of  ec- 
clesiastical fancies  ;  the  stained  glass,  through  which 

"  The  light  from  high-arched  windows  thrown 
Turns  into  gems  the  pavement  stone ; " 

the  Aaronic  and  Mosaic  figures,  the  Eaptist  and  St. 
Paul,' — in  carving;  the  rich,  loud  organ,  and  the  altar 
piece,  all  this  we  like,  aye,  and  perhaps  more,  for  God 
should  be  worshipped  with  the  best  of  every  thing ; 
best  architecture,  best  painting,  best  music,  best  sculp- 
ture, best  poetry,  and  best  genius. 
But  this  Swedenborgian  Church  is  not  the  one  to 


PEN-PICTURES.  237 

which  we  are  bound  to-day.  So  quitting  its  precincts,  we 
soon  reach  Ashburton  Place,  where  is  situated  Mount 
Vernon  Church,  in  which  officiates  the  subject  of  our 
present  sketch,  the  Rev.  Edward  N.  Kirk.  Among  all 
the  men  of  this  book  ther&  are  none  mor^  worthy  of  an 
extended  notice.  There  is  not  one  more  esteemed,  or 
popular  in  Boston.  Well  could  we  devote  long  space  to 
an  analysis  of  his  mind  and  his  method,  in  its  relation  to 
the  times ;  but  see,  our  volume  approaches  its  close, 
and  we  shall  soon  have  altogether  to  lay  down  our  pen. 

Before  we  sketch  the  minister  and  his  method  of 
preaching,  let  us  say  a  few  words  respecting  the  Mount 
Vernon  Church,  and  fortunately  for  us,  we  have  ready 
to  our  hand  a  brief  account  of  it,  which  we  extract  from 
Grlcason's  Pictorial.  The  writer  says :  — 

"  On  the  morning  of  Wednesday,  June  1, 1842,  a 
new  church  of  forty-seven  members  was  organized  in 
Park  Street  Church,  and  upon  the  same  day,  Mr.  Kirk 
was  installed  its  pastor  by  the  same  ecclesiastical  council 
that  assembled  to  organize  the  church.  For  more  than, 
a  year  the  society  worshipped  in  the  lecture  room  of  the 
Masonic  Temple,  when  on  the  4th  of  January,  1844, 
just  six  months  from  the  day  on  which  the  corner  stone 
was  laid,  the  chaste  and  beautiful  church  in  which  the 
congregation  now  worship  was  solemnly  dedicated  to  Al- 
mighty God.  The  site  chosen  for  the  church  is  one  of 
the  finest  that  could  have  been  selected  —  elevated, 
quiet,  and  surrounded  by  a  dense  and  intelligent  popula- 
tion. The  name  chosen  for  this  church,  Mount  Vernon 
Congregational,  and  the  name  by  which  the  place  is  now 


238  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  OR, 

known,  Ashburton,  are  both  noble  names,  that  pleasantly 
suggest  America  and  the  fatherland.  The  holy  men 
and  women  engaged  in  this  religious  enterprise  were 
kindred  spirits,  just  such  as  the  preaching  of  Mr.  Kirk 
would  set  on  foe  ;  and  his  life  and  character  would  win 
to  himself,  ana  through  him  to  a  closer  walk  with  God. 
The  chosen  band  of  forty-seven  were  favored  with  ardent 
piety,  intelligence,  wealth,  talent,  and  more  than  all, 
and  above  all,  a  disposition  to  use  them  for  the  further- 
ance of  Christ's  kingdom  in  the  earth.  The  Nestor,  or 
rather  the  Nehemiah  in  this  enterprise,  was  the  pastor, 
who,  with  a  thorough  education,  with  ten  years  of  pas- 
toral experience,  with  the  benefits  of  some  extensive 
travel,  with  an  unusual  acquaintance  with  men  and 
things,  with  burning  devotion  to  his  work,  with  the  com- 
bined accomplishment  of  the  gentleman  and  Christian, 
the  orator  and  the  pastor,  was  entirely  qualified  to  lead 
on  this  infant  church,  under  the  glorious  Captain  of  its 
salvation,  to  a  ripened  maturity  in  the  course  of  a  single 
decade.  The  work  has  been  done.  During  the  eleven 
years  of  the  history  of  the  church,  it  has  had,  perhaps, 
unparalleled  success.  More  than  eight  hundred  persons 
have  been  added  to  its  communion,  and  in  June,  1852, 
there  remained  connected  witWB^  church,  five  hundred 
and  seventy-three  members.  It  has  sent  out  hundreds 
to  aid  in  forming  other  churches,  and  to  perform  various 
good  offices  in  the  church  and  in  the  world.  On  Sunday, 
June  5th  of  this  year,  Mr.  Kirk  preached  in  his  own 
church  his  eleventh  anniversary  sermon." 

The  interior  of  Mount  Vernon  Church  is  plainly- 


PEN-PICTURES.  239 

elegant,  if  we  may  be  allowed  to  make  use  of  such  a 
compound  form.  There  is  an  air  of  quiet  repose  about 
it,  and  nothing  gaudy  or  out  of  taste  offends  the  eye. 
As  we  enter,  a  hymn  is  being  very  finely  sung,  one  rich 
female  voice  in  particular^^ng  the  building  with  its  de- 
licious harmony,  and  yetipblending  harmoniously  with 
the  tones  from  other  lips,  distinct  above,  but  not  over- 
powering them.  The  organ,  that  prince  of  instruments, 
is  beautifully  playda,  and  taken  altogether,  we  have  sel- 
dom heard  finer  choir  singing  than  that  at  Mount  Ver- 
non.  But,  after  all,  we  question  whether  congregational 
singing  is  not  far  better  and  more  appropriate  than  the 
best  mere  vocal  exhibition  in  the  world.  And  besides, 
it  is,  we  think,  somewhat  ridiculous  for  about  a  dozen 
persons  to  utter  the  words, 

"  Sweet  is  the  work,  my  God,  my  King, 
To  praise  thy  name,  give  thanks  and  sing," 

when  the  tongues  of  all  but  the  choir  are  silent.  And 
it  is  a  little  like  an  absurdity  too  for  a  whole  congre- 
gation to  stand  with  sealed  lips  when  a  few  only  in  front 
of  the  organ  sing, 

"  Come  let  us  join  our  cheerful  songs ; " 

"~\ 
as  if  the  good  folks  below  had  little  more  to  do  with  the 

matter,  than  to  keep  their  hymn-books  open  in  order  to 
see  if  the  verses  were  rightly  delivered,  or  to  .merely 
criticise  the  execution. 

Mr.  Kirk's  pulpit  appearance  is  impressive.     "Without 
going  into  any  minute  analysis  of  its  separate  features, 


240  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  on, 

we  may  observe  that  the  characteristic  expression  of  his 
face  is  a  grave  sweetness  combined  with  dignity  and 
solemnity.  Although  he  is  very  far  from  "  venerable," 
his  hair  already  betrays  the  truth,  that  youth  has  de- 
parted. He  seems,  in  fac^to  be  in  the  very  meridian 
of  his  day  of  usefulness.  J^J^fect  ease  of  manner  tells 
us  that  he  has  been  much  habituated  to  intercourse  with 
men  and  manners.  The  same  writer  from  whom  we  just 
now  quoted,  says:  — 

"  He  was  born  in  New  York,  graduated  at  Princeton 
College,  and  immediately  directed  his  attention  to  the 
law  as  his  profession.  Near  this  time,  through  the  prov- 
idence and  grace  of  God,  he  became  interested  in  the 
gospel,  which  he  in  future  made  his  study  instead  of  the 
law.  Returning  to  Princeton,  the  ancient  seat  of  an 
excellent  "  school  of  the  prophets,"  he  studied  divinity. 
He  first  became  known  to  the  American  churches  as  a 
preacher  in  behalf  of  missions,  under  the  auspices  of  the 
American  Board  of  Missions.  So  favorable  an  impres- 
sion did  he  make  while  engaged  in  this  work,  that  he 
received  a  favorable  call  to  settle  over  a  new  church  in 
Albany,  N.  Y.,  which  he  accepted.  Here  he  labored 
for  some  ten  years  with  remarkable  success,  when  he 
accepted  an  appointment  to  visit  Europe  as  the  repre- 
sentative of  a  society  in  this  country,  whose  object  was 
to  infuse  Christian  life  into  the  Roman  Catholic  countries 
of  Europe.  Mr.  Kirk  spent  several  years  abroad,  in 
which  he  made  good  use  of  his  time  in  advancing  the 
interests  of  this  society,  and  in  self  culture.  He  re- 
turned to  this  country  about  the  year  1840,  and  preached 


PEN-PICTUKES.  241 

in  different  cities  with  such  power  and  effect,  that  it 
seemed  as  though  a  young  Whitefield  had  arrived  upon 
our  shores,  and  had  entered  our  pulpits.  He  labored  as 
an  evangelist  from  city  to  city,  and  from  town  to  town, 
for  a  considerable  time,  frowds  hanging  on  his  lips  by 
day  and  by  night,  while  he  gained  more  decisive  proof 
that  he  was  not  laboring  in  vain.  While  thus  engaged 
in  1 840-1  >  several  active  Christians  of  the  Orthodox 
Congregational  Churches  had  their  eyes  fixed  on  him  as 
a  suitable  person  to  become  the  pastor  of  a  new  church, 
which  they  conceived  should  be  formed  in  Boston." 

Seldom  have  we  listened  to  a  pleasanter,  or  more  im- 
pressive voice  than  that  of  Mr.  Kirk,  as  he  reads  a 
hymn.  There  is  a  slight  tremulousness  in  it  which  be- 
tokens that  the  reader  feels  the  sentiments  of  the  author. 
The  soul  seems  to  tremble  under  the  influence  of  the 
emotional  excitement.  Free  from  everything  that  could 
impose,  or  attract,  or  excite  by  appeals  to  the  senses  — 
yet  the  recital  of  a  hymn  from  those  lips  thrills  us 
as  we  never  were  thrilled  before ;  and  you  observe  that, 
in  reading  the  Scriptures,  you  are  listening  to  a  para- 
phrase, to  a  new  translation,  to  a  running  exposition,  in 
which  is  substance  and  matter  for  many  sermons.  But 
the  prayer  —  oh,  the  prayer !  how  shall  that  be  charac- 
terized ?  And  indeed,  we  all  feel  that  prayer  is  no  sub- 
ject for  comment ;  and  yet  did  you  ever  listen  to  prayer 
like  this  ?  quiet,  deep,  the  hushed  fluttering  of  a  dove- 
like  spirit  through  the  heaven  of  its  devout  contempla- 
tions ;  this  we  may  notice  in  it,  that  Adoration,  and  As- 
cription, and  Devotion,  form  so  large  a  portion  of  it,  and 
21 


242  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  OK% 

Petition  so  little.  It  is  in  prayer  that  we  feel  how 
powerful  is  the  voice  of  God  and  Eternity  in  the  soul  of 
our  teacher  —  our  confidence  in  him  is  deepened.  We 
know  that  he  has  travelled  into  "  the  heavenly  places." 
Oh,  reader,  the  human  heart  ^  deep  and  deceptive  ;  but 
do  we  not  all  know  our  instructor  by  the  tone  of  his 
prayers  ?  do  not  his  supplications  make  our  best  music  ? 
And  when  our  preacher  discourses  to  us,  he  still  lin- 
gers near  the  light  that  rayed  through  his  prayer  like  the 
glory  round  a  Shekinah  or  a  Shrine.  Subjects,  how  re- 
markable, how  simple,  how  full  of  majesty,  how  full  of 
love,  how  full  of  light.  We  have  never  heard  Mr.  Kirk, 
but  we  have  been  disposed  to  apply  to  him  the  words  of 
Salis,  so  beautifully  translated  by  Longfellow. 

"  Into  the  silent  land, 
Oh !  who  shall  lead  us  thither  ? 
Clouds  in  the  evening  sky  more  darkly  gather, 
And  scattered  wrecks  lie  thicker  on  the  strand. 
Who  leads  us  with  a  gentle  hand, 

Hither  and  thither, 
Into  the  silent  land  ? 

"Oh  land!  oh  land! 
For  all  the  broken  hearted ! 
The  mildest  herald  by  fate  allotted, 

Beckons,  and  with  inverted  torch,  doth  stand, 
To  lead  us  with  a  gentle  hand, 

Into  the  land  of  the  great  departed — • 
Into  the  silent  land." 

SILENCE  AND  SOLITUDE  —  those  great  teachers,  those 


PEN-PICTURES.  243 

wonderful  ministering  angels  —  from  these  our  friend 
derives  to  a  great  extent  the  main  portions  of  the  in- 
structions which  he  deals  forth  to  his  people.  And 
perhaps  most  of  us  would  need  few  preachers  at  all,  if 
we  could  but  allow  silence  to  put  its  word  into  our 
minds,  —  if  we  did  not  so  dread  solitude  and  loneliness. 
But  we  can  talk  of  solitude  better  than  we  can  endure 
it.  We  can  be  eloquent  upon  silence,  "  but  we  cannot 
sit  still."  •  * 

But  the  pastor  commences  his  sermon,  and  as  he  does 
so  the  question  suggests  itself:  Upon  the  whole,  what 
do  we  want  most  in  preaching  ?  Even  this,  that  a  sub- 
ject should  be  placed,  not  in  an  atmo^iere  of  sound, 
but  an  atmosphere  of  light.  The  gift  of  hearing  was 
conferred,  not,  we  take  it,  to  be  a  means  of  confounding 
the  perceptions,  and  bamboozling  the  understanding,  but 
as  an  avenue  to  the  mind,  in  order  that  it  may  see  ;  and 
so  with  images,  since  the  world  was  made,  and  men  be- 
gan to  speak  freely,  and  things  acquired  a  spiritual  sig- 
nificance —  Symbolism,  how  few  of  all  the  tropes  and 
figures  used  have  been  understood  or  used  to  any  pur- 
pose. Time  was  when  every  figure  was  an  analogy, 
and  suggested  instantly  a  prompt  resemblance  to  the 
matter  in  hand  ;  but  now  they  are  more  freakish,  and 
their  forms  far  less  definite  and  obvious  than  the  glasses 
of  a  Kaliedoscope.  Perspicuity  of  style  demands  much 
more  than  the  mere  grammatical  perspicuity  of  a  sen- 
tence ;  it  demands  that  the  whole  array  of  the  thought, 
and  the  subject,  should  be  marshalled  before  the  hearer's 
mind.  The  style  of  these  fine  writers  is  like  the  setting 


244  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:    OR, 

sun  beheld  through  a  mountain  mist  —  all  things  are 
confused  —  everything  lies  shapeless  and  undefined  ;  yet 
you  feel  a  sense  of  splendor,  and  you  see  a  shadowing 
forth  of  glory ;  you  see  enough  and  feel  enough,  to  say, 
"  Oh,  that  the  sun  were  shining  clear  and  bright  to-day ! " 
A  characteristic  of  Mr.  Kirk's  preaching  is  his  power 
of  painting.  His  soul  is  filled  with  poetry  of  the  richest 
order ;  he  does  not,  like  some  Artists,  overcolor  to  con- 
ceal the  poverty  of  his  conceptions  ;  ke  does  not  attempt 
to  atone  for  the  weakness  of  his  Epic  by  the  pomp  of 
his  Phraseology ;  his  colors  are  simple,  but  they  are 
exquisite ;  he  presents  to  us  gems  like  those  of  Anthony 
Waterloo,  or  Wilkie,  and  he  frequently  gives  to  us  a 
depth  of  scenery  like  that  we  admire  in  Cuyp.  He  can 
describe  gloriously.  He  throws  in  the  shades  of  pathos, 
and  then,  he  holds  all  the  hearts  of  his  hearers  in  his 
hands.  And  now  a  summer  tint,  and  the  eye  recognizes 
it,  and  the  heart  resumes  its  courage ;  he  must  have  the 
eye  of  an  artist,  keen,  detective,  discriminative  ;  he  does 
not  care  about  finishing  the  pictures  he  holds  up  ;  it  is 
sufficient  that  the  likeness  is  seen.  He  seldom  dips  his 
pencil  in  yellow  and  purple;  the  gamboge  and  the 
chrome  do  not  here,  as  in  many  pictures,  make  the  eye 
ache  with  their  glaring  rays.  Then  he  does  not  crowd 
many  objects  together,  (another  freak  with  many  pain- 
ters,) to  bewilder  you  with  the  many,  and  so  prevent 
your  criticisms  upon  the  one.  No  ;  but  the  living  picture 
seen  by  the  audience  is  reflected  to  their  eye  from  its 
lying  warm  upon  the  preacher's  heart.  Such  was  the 
picture  of  Blind  Bartimeus,  which  we  listened  to  a  few 


PEN-PICTURES.  245 

months  since,  just  prior  to  Mr.  Kirk's  departure  for 
Europe. 

Very  few  ministers  are  more  beloved  by  their  congre- 
gations than  is  Mr.  Kirk.  In  the  early  part  of  the 
present  year  he  received  an  invitation  from  a  church  in 
Philadelphia,  but  so  attached  was  he  to  his  Boston  flock, 
that  he  could  not  be  tempted  to  quit  the  scone  of  his 
successful  labors.  Just  before  he  last  left  America  for 
a  foreign  tour,  he  preached  a  farewell  discourse,  from  a 
text  which  he  had  selected  eleven  years  before,  when  he 
first  took  charge  of  the  society.  The  passage  was  from 
the  24th  chapter  of  Luke,  the  49th  verse  :  —  "  And  be- 
hold I  send  the  promise  of  my  Father  upon  you ;  but 
tarry  ye  in  the  city  of  Jerusalem,  until  ye  be  endued 
with  power  from  on  high."  In  the  course  of  his  late 
discourse  he  is  reported  as  stating  as  follows :  —  "  In  the 
year  1852,  more  united  with  this  church  than  in  any 
previous  year,  there  being  fifty-four  added  on  profession 
of  their  faith.  Since  the  organization  of  the  church  — 
and  that,  too,  in  a  time  of  universal  drought  —  more 
than  four  hundred  have  been  hopefully  converted,  and 
two  hundred  and  ninety-nine  have  joined  us,  coming  out 
from  the  world,  and  seeking  the  things  that  pertain  to 
eternal  life.  We  have  also  done  much  in  the  way  of 
conquering  our  covetousness.  During  the  last  year  the 
sum  of  $9,100  had  been  contributed  by  this  church  for 
benevolent  objects,  and  so  far  the  amount  has  been  in- 
creased this  year." 

There  is  one  minister  in  England,  who  in  many  points 
resembles  Mr.  Kirk.  I  refer  to  that  well-known  Divine, 
21* 


246  PULPIT   PORTRAITS:    OR, 

the  Rev.  Baptist  Noel.  And  as  it  is  probable  that  ere 
long  this  gentleman  will  visit  America,  I  will  conclude 
this  sketch  of  the  pastor  of  Mount  Vernon  church  by  an 
outline  of  the  London  Preacher. 

No  one  can  glance  at  Baptist  Noel,  without  instinct- 
ively feeling  that  a  man  of  "  birth  and  breeding"  stands 
before  him  ;  for  let  a  certain  set  of  people,  whose  delight 
it  is  to  rail  at  all  who  are  placed  in  a  superior  position  to 
their  own,  say  what  they  will,  there  is  a  peculiar  air 
about  our  aristocracy,  which  is  decisive  and  distinctive  ; 
a  style  which  is  "  to  the  manner  born,"  and  which  can- 
not be  acquired.  Every  one  knows  that  a  gentleman  is 
not  a  manufactured  article,  and  that,  to  parody  Moore's 
couplet, 

You  may  spangle  and  dress  up  a  man  as  you  will, 
But  the  stamp  of  the  vulgar  will  stick  to  him  still. 

Let  it  be  remembered,  we  by  no  means  desire  to  imply, 
that  gentlemen  are  only  to  be  found  in  the  circles  of  the 
titled  and  rich.  Far  from  it.  We  have  met  men  who 
would  adorn  any  position,  in  the  humblest  walks  of  life  ; 
and  on  the  other  hand  have  fallen  in  with  blackguards 
of  the  first  water,  who  are  living  libels  on  the  nobility 
which  they  disgrace. 

But  let  us  picture  Baptist  Noel,  as  he  appears  in  the 
pulpit. 

Those  of  our  readers  who  may  have  seen  the  portraits 
of  Reginald  Heber,  the  Bishop  of  Calcutta,  will  have 
little  difficulty  in  imagining  the  cast  of  Baptist  Noel's 
countenance.  It  is  a  remarkably  attractive  one;  and 


PEN-PICTURES.  247 

its  attractive  power  lies  in  the  serenity  which  pervades 
it.  A  high,  broad  forehead,  indicates  the  possession  of 
considerable  intellectual  power;  and  across  it,  rather 
carelessly,  sweeps  long  light-brown  hair,  which  leaves  the 
left  temple  exposed.  The  eyes  are  of  a  grayish  blue,  if 
such  a  blending  of  tints  is  allowable  ;  and  they  have  a 
solemnly-sweet  expression.  It  seems  at  first  sight  rather 
ridiculous  to  describe  a  man's  nose  —  but  prominent 
feature  as  it  is,  it  is  not  to  be  neglected.  Mr.  Noel's 
nasal  organ  is  slightly  aquiline ;  well  "  chiselled,"  to 
use  an  artistic  phrase,  and  in  "  harmony"  with  the  other 
features.  The  mouth  is  well-shaped  and  very  expressive, 
and  the  chin  is  rather  long.  The  shape  of  the  entire 
face  is  oval,  and  the  head  is  gracefully  set  on  the  shoul- 
ders. Mr.  Noel's  figure  is  symmetrical ;  in  height  he  is 
slightly  above  the  medium  stature ;  and  clad  in  the 
habiliments  of  his  sacred  profession,  he  stands  the  very 
personification  of  that  dignity  and  gentleness  which  should 
ever  characterize  the  Christian  Minister. 

From  the  moment  Baptist  Noel  commences  his  dis- 
course, the  attention  of  the  hearer  is  riveted.  His 
voice  is  melodious  in  the  extreme  ;  one  more  musical  we 
think  we  never  heard.  Well  do  we  remember  the  time 
when  it  first  fell  on  our  ears.  The  reverend  gentleman 
had  been  announced  to  preach  an  anniversary  sermon  for 
the  Church  Missionary  Society,  in  the  fine  old  church  of 
St.  Mary,  Redcliffe,  Bristol.  At  that  time,  Mr.  Noel 
was  in  the  zenith  of  his  popularity  as  a  pulpit  orator ; 
but  his  chastened  eloquence  was  not  the  only  attraction, 
his  known  liberal  opinions  had  gained  him  "  golden  opin- 


218  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  OR, 

ions''  among  all  classes  of  Dissenters;  many  of  the 
most  rigid  of  these  sturdy  Nonconformists,  and  obstinate 
resisters  of  church-rates  —  people  who  would,  on  other 
occasions,  have  as  soon  thought  of  visiting  Pandemonium 
as  a  Parish  Church,  now  flocked  to  hear  Noel.  His 
habit  of  extemporaneous  preaching,  too,  enlisted  him  in 
their  favor ;  for  many  of  them  had,  and  have,  for  aught 
we  know,  a  thorough  contempt  for  read  sermons.  In 
short,  Baptist  Noel  was,  to  use  a  stereotyped  theatrical 
phrase,  a  "  favorite."  Even  at  that  period,  now  some 
fifteen  years  ago,  clear-headed  men  declared  that  he  was 
a  "  great  deal  too  liberal  for  the  Church,"  and  prophesied 
that  with  his  views,  he  could  not  long  remain  within  its 
pale.  The  event  of  the  last  year  has  verified  their  pre- 
dictions. But  we  must  not  anticipate. 

Clear  as  the  sound  of  a  silver  bell  sounded  the  musical 
voice  of  Baptist  Noel,  beneath  the  lofty  ceiling,  and 
along  the  columned  aisles  of  the  old  church  which  we 
have  incidentally  referred  to.  Vast  as  the  building  was, 
and  filled  with  echoes,  each  word  which  fell  from  his  lips 
was  most  distinctly  audible  in  the  most  remote  parts  of 
the  church.  The  Missionary  work  was  his  theme,  a  most 
congenial  topic  for  one  whose  expansive  benevolence  is 
universally  admitted.  From  a  little  Bible  which  he  held 
in  his  hand,  he  read  the  text,  and  then  proceeded  to 
elucidate  his  subject.  Commencing  with  a  general  allu- 
sion to  it,  in  the  shape  of  a  graceful  exordium,  he  speedily 
arrived  at  the  chief  point  of  his  discourse,  and  then, 
with  a  graceful  fluency,  he  reviewed  the  condition  and 
prospects  of  that  Missionary  Society,  whose  interests  ho 


PEN-PICTURES.  249 

was  advocating.  On  such  a  field  he  was,  to  use  a  com- 
mon but  expressive  phrase,  "  at  home."  Listening  to 
his  details  of  Missionary  labor,  in  various  parts  of  the 
world,  was  what  might  be  termed  a  verbal  panoramic 
treat.  Coleridge,  in  one  of  his  dreamy  moods,  said, 
"My  eyes  make  pictures  when  they  are  shut;"  and  it 
may  be  remarked,  that  when  Baptist  Noel  takes  his 
hearers  on  a  pulpit  Missionary  tour,  he  brings  vividly 
before  their  mental  vision  the  scenes  he  describes.  In 
effect,  Missionary  advocacy  is  his  forte.  Seated  com- 
fortably in  your  pew,  with  half-closed  eyes,  it  is  a  posi- 
tive luxury  to  accompany  him,  in  imagination,  as  he 
traverses  the  Missionary  world.  The  graceful  palm  of 
India  waves  its  feathery  foliage  beneath  unclouded  skies, 
and  under  its  welcome  shade  we  behold  the  proud  Brah- 
min abandoning  his  idols,  and  leaving  Vishnu  for  Christ. 
The  Pacific,  studded  with  island-gems,  lies  blue  and 
broad  before  us,  and  on  them  we  behold  temples  rising, 
and  civilization  extending,  and  cruelty  departing.  And 
now 

"  The  spicy  breezes 
Blow  soft  o'er  Ceylon's  isle ;" 

and  in  that  home  of  all  that  is  beautiful  in  the  Physical 
Creation,  we  see  idols  thrown  to  the  moles  and  the  bats, 
and  gentleness  substituted  for  violence.  Still  onward 
we  go,  and  behold  that  great  and  mysterious  country, 
China,  partially  opened  before  us.  There  we  see  the 
laborious  Gutzlaff  toiling  in  the  midst  of  an  indeed 
"  perverse  generation."  Rises  before  us,  too,  the  Pagoda 


250  PULPIT  PORTRAITS  :    OR, 

and  the  Joss  house,  and  we  view  the  boat-crowded  river, 
and  on  its  banks  the  Missionary  Church.  Again  we 
speed  on  our  world-journey  and  cross  the  deserts  of  the 
African  Continent,  Sierra  Leone,  as  lovely  a  spot  to 
look  upon  as  ever  gladdened  the  eye  of  mortal,  but 
nevertheless  the  "  white  man's  grave,"  rises  picturesquely 
from  the  sea ;  but  there,  regardless  of  the  pestilence 
that  walketh  by  noon-day,  works  the  Missionary,  —  the 
graves  of  his  predecessors  full  in  view,  and  with  the 
ever-present  feeling  that  in  every  breath  he  draws  may 
float  the  elements  of  death.  The  fruitful  Islands  of  the 
"West  are  visited  —  lands  where  the  oppressor's  chain  is 
broken,  and  the  slave  groans  no  more.  And  to  many 
other  portions  of  the  earth's  surface  does  the  preacher, 
in  imagination,  convey  us ;  and  then,  by  a  forcible  ap- 
peal to  his  hearers,  he  convinces  them  of  the  claims  of 
the  Missionary  Society,  and  concludes  his  energetic,  yet 
calm  discourse,  by  a  personal  application  of  his  text  to 
the  consciences  of  those  to  whom  he  has  been  preaching. 
On  ordinary  occasions,  Mr.  Noel's  sermons  are  char- 
acterized by  an  uniform  excellence.  Those  who  go  to 
hear  him,  in  the  expectation  of  meeting  with  something 
strange  or  startling,  will  be  assuredly  disappointed.  His 
eloquence  is  like  the  course  of  a  calm  river,  gentle,  and 
musical  in  its  flow.  From  the  moment  he  commences 
his  sermon,  until  its  conclusion,  embracing  usually  about 
an  hour,  or  an  hour  and  a  quarter,  there  is  not  the 
slightest  impediment  or  interruption  to  the  stream  of  his 
matter.  And  his  voice  is  seldom  raised  above  the  pitch 
in  which  he  commences ;  but  then  it  is  too  musical,  and 


PEN-PICTURES.  251 

too  gently  modulated,  to  be  monotonous.  His  sentences, 
carefully  constructed,  are  remarkably  smooth,  and  we 
imagine  are  the  results  of  study-practice.  This,  how- 
ever, is  not  marred  by  anything  approaching  to  pedantry, 
for  no  one  can  hear  Mr.  Noel,  and  believe,  for  a  moment, 
that  the  weakness  of  affectation  clings  to  him.  His  prin- 
cipal fault,  as  a  preacher,  is  elaboration ;  sometimes  he 
dilates  an  idea  until  almost  all  trace  of  it  is  lost,  or  it  is 
but  faintly  perceived.  This  is  not  an  habitual  fault ; 
nevertheless,  it  is  sufficiently  frequent  to  mar  the  effects 
of  some  of  his  pulpit  productions.  His  action  is  slight, 
graceful,  and  such  as  might  be  supposed  in  a  man  of  his 
disposition. 

A  great,  and  distinctive  feature  in  the  preaching  of 
the  Rev.  Baptist  Noel  is  his  frequent  use  of  Scriptural 
quotations.  These,  whatever  may  be  the  topic  of  his 
discourse,  are  most  felicitously  introduced,  not  dragged 
in.  We  have  heard  some  ministers  fit,  as  it  were,  their 
subjects  to  certain  passages,  for  the  sake  of  a  display  of 
Biblical  erudition,  forgetful  of  the  rule  that  the  extract 
should  aptly  illustrate  the  subject  matter.  In  Mr.  Noel's 
case  the  quotations  fall  easily  and  naturally  into  their 
proper  places,  and  invariably  throw  light  upon,  or  confirm 
that  which  preceded  them.  We  know  but  of  one  other 
minister  who  excels  in  this  respect,  and  who,  equally 
with  Mr.  Noel,  enjoys  the  reputation,  and  deservedly 
too,  of  being  a  "  Bible  Preacher."  We  refer  to  the 
Rev.  James  Sherman,  the  successor  to  Rowland  Hill. 


252  .  PULPIT  PORTRAITS  I    OR, 

"  The  time  might  come  when  I  may  deem  it  necessary 
that  I  should  secede  from  the  Church  of  England ;  that 
time  has  not  yet  come  ;  nor  do  I  see  any  probability  of 
its  speedy  arrival."  Such  were  the  words  which  the 
Rev.  Baptist  Noel  uttered  on  the  platform  of  the  Music 
Hall,  in  Store  street,  fifteen  or  sixteen  years  ago,  at  a 
public  meeting.  The  time,  however,  did  come,  and  one 
fine  morning,  the  religious  world  of  London  was  startled 
by  the  announcement,  that  the  popular  Minister  of  St. 
John's  Chapel,  Bedford  Row,  was  about  to  quit  the 
Church  of  England,  of  which  he  had  been  so  long  a 
member  and  an  ornament,  and  join  the  great  body  of 
Dissenters.  Many  had  been  prepared  for  this  step  on 
the  part  of  Mr.  Noel,  but  on  the  majority  of  Churchmen 
the  announcement  fell  like  a  thunder-clap.  Then  arose 
the  question,  to  which  body  of  Dissenters  was  he  about 
to  attach  himself,  and  many  were  the  conjectures  on  this 
point.  Until  the  matter  was  positively  known,  Inde- 
pendents, Wesleyans,  Baptists,  and  Huntingdonians, 
claimed  him  as  their  own ;  and  in  the  expectation,  that 
on  the  occasion  of  his  farewell  sermon,  the  preacher 
would  mention  the  sect  of  his  selection,  that  discourse 
was  looked  forward  to  with  the  most  intense  interest. 

Never,  perhaps,  had  been  witnessed  so  much  excite- 
ment in  the  neighborhood  of  St.  John's  Chapel,  as  on 
the  last  Sunday  of  Mr.  Noel's  ministrations  there. 
Hours  before  the  doors  were  opened,  Chapel  street  was 
thronged  from  end  to  end  by  eager  people ;  and,  when 
at  length  the  entrances  were  free,  the  multitude  rushed 
in,  and  took  forcible  possession  of  private  pews  by  clam- 


PEN-PICTURES.  253 

bering  over  them,  and  in  a  very  few  minutes  completely 
filled  the  edifice.  For  a  time,  the  scene  was  one  of 
.  utter  confusion.  When,  at  length,  the  sermon  com- 
menced, all  ears  were  opened  to  hear  the  preacher's 
reasons  for  leaving  his  pastorate  ;  but,  to  the  disappoint- 
ment of  all,  a  simple,  faithful,  scriptural  sermon  was 
preached  —  and  the  subject  which  had  been  looked  for 
was  scarcely  alluded  to.  In  a  few  weeks  afterwards,  all 
doubt  on  the  subject  was  dispelled  by  the  public  baptism, 
by  immersion,  of  Mr.  Noel,  in  the  Rev.  James  Harring- 
ton Evans's  Chapel,  John  street.  On  that  occasion  he 
delivered  an  appropriate  address,  which,  as  it  has  been 
published  and  extensively  circulated,  we  need  not  quote 
from  in  this  place ;  and  shortly  afterwards  appeared 
a  bulky  volume,  in  which  Mr.  Noel,  at  considerable 
length,  explained  his  reasons  for  seceding  from  the 
Establishment,  and  joining  the  Baptist  body  of  Chris- 
tians. 

The  exultation  of  the  Dissenters  at  this  accession  to 
their  ranks  was  unbounded.  Mr.  Noel's  book  ran 
rapidly  through  many  editions  —  and  the  ministers  of 
several  denominations  read  portions  from  it  on  stated 
evenings  in  their  vestries  to  those  of  their  congregations 
who  could  not  afford  to  pay  for  it.  Now,  however,  the 
excitement  has  subsided,  and  the  Hon.  and  Rev.  Baptist 
Noel,  instead  of  being  a  minister  of  the  Establishment, 
occupies  the  comparatively  humble  position  of  Pastor  of 
the  Chapel  in  which  he  was  baptized  —  he  having  suc- 
ceeded to  the  pulpit  which  became  vacant  at  the  death 
of  Mr.  Evans.  The  once  Chaplain  to  the  Queen  is  now 
22 


254  PULPIT  PORTRAITS:  OR, 

preacher  to  a  Congregation,  amongst  which  are  numbered 
some  of  the  poorest  of  her  subjects  —  for  on  the  occasion 
of  a  recent  visit  to  John  Street  Chapel,  we  sat  next  to 
an  individual  in  the  free  seats,  who,  perhaps,  fancying 
long  coat-sleeves  a  luxury,  wore  his  no  lower  than  his 
elbows.  There  are,  however,  many  wealthy  persons 
among  the  congregation  —  and  it  may  be  added,  that  a 
considerable  number  of  Mr.  Noel's  former  hearers  at 
the  Church  have  followed  his  example,  and  worship  with 
him  in  the  Chapel,  which  latter  is  but  a  few  hundred 
yards  from  the  former. 

Some  people  are  apt,  when  talking  of  heroes,  to  im- 
agine that  those  only  are  entitled  to  the  laurel  crown 
who  "  wade  through  fields  of  slaughter."  This  hero- 
worship  is  confined  to  the  Caesars,  the  Soults,  the  Wel- 
lingtons, and  the  Napoleons  of  History.  But  the  battle 
plain  is  not  the  only  field  from  whence  heroes  spring,  or 
where  bold  deeds  are  wrought.  Humble  life  can  and 
does  furnish  numerous  examples  of  heroism,  un-noted  it 
may  be  by  the  historian,  but  not  the  less  heroism  for  the 
omission  from  history's  page.  Our  daily  paths'  ire  filled 
with  heroes.  The  self-criminated  drunkard,  who,  spite 
of  derision  and  inclination,  bursts  the  ignoble  chain  which 
long  had  bound  him,  is  a  moral  hero.  And  the  meek, 
enduring  woman,  who,  through  seasons  of  severe  trial, 
has  held  on  her  way  uncomplainingly,  though  scourged 
by  the  neglect  of  him  who  should  have  been  her  guar- 
dian ;  and  who,  with  a  dark  cloud  ever  over  her,  has 
trained  her  children  with  a  strong  pious  endeavor,  is  a 
heroine  —  aye,  as  great,  or  a  greater  one  than  Joan  of 


PEN-PICTURES.  255 

Arc  ;  and  he  who  long  has  fostered  one  set  of  principles, 
but  finding  by  some  burst  of  light  that  they  were  erro- 
neous, abandons  them,  is  a  hero  too.  Remembering 
this,  we  may  easily  suppose  that  it  required  no  light 
effort  for  Baptist  Noel  to  leave  a  long-cherished  Church, 
and  bid  adieu  to  strongly  attached  friends  — for  con- 
science' sake.  During  the  whole  of  his  career,  mild  and 
beneficent  as  it  has  been,  he  possessed  that  great  gift  — 
a  decisiveness  of  character.  This  was  strikingly  appa- 
rent some  years  since,  when  the  Bishop  of  London  made 
his  fierce  onslaught  on  the  London  City  Mission. 

To  the  eternal  honor  of  Baptist  Noel  be  it  recorded, 
that  he  was  the  only  clergyman  who  scorned  the  Prelate's 
threat,  that  those  of  the  Ministers  of  the  Establishment 
in  his  diocese,  who  refused  to  abandon  that  Society, 
should  be  ejected  from  their  pulpits.  Refuse  he  did  — 
but  ejected  he  was  not. 


At  first  sight  it  appears  rather  strange  to  behold  Mr. 
Noel  in  the  pulpit  of  a  Baptist  Chapel,  divested  of  gown 
and  bands.  The  strange  feeling,  however,  soon  wears 
off;  for  there  is  the  same  classic  head,  the  serene  eye, 
the  same  sweet  and  dignified  expression,  and  the  same 
musical  voice.  The  sincerity,  too,  is  quite  as  genuine, 
the  appeals  quite  as  fervent,  and  the  piety  as  sincere  as 
ever.  The  scene  of  the  Christian's  labor  is  altered ; 
the  labor  of  the  Christian  is  as  devotedly  pursued  as 
ever.  And  why  not?  After  all,  worshippers  of  the 
Son  of  Righteousness  gaze  on  the  same  orb,  and  reflect 


256  PULPIT   PORTHAITS. 

his  brightness,  though  different  be  the  points,  and  "  wide 
as  the  poles  asunder"  from  whence  they  gaze.  Blind 
bigots  they  who  arrogate  to  their  own  sect  the  right  to 
point  the  road  to  Heaven  ! 

Mr.  Noel  has  figured  as  an  author  as  well  as  a 
preacher.  They  who  are  curious  to  see  him  "  in  print  " 
may  be  glad  to  know  that  he  is  the  author  of  "  Notes  of 
a  tour  in  Ireland,  in  1835,"  and  of  several  pamphlets. 
Many  of  his  sermons  have  been  published  in  the  periodi- 
cals of  the  day  —  in  fact  he  has  been  a  fortune  to  young 
stenographers,  who  have  made  a  market  of  his  dis- 
courses. He  has  also  published  a  volume  of  verses,  of 
which  candor  compels  us  to  say,  that  they  contain  more 
piety  than  poetry. 


WI7ERSITY 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  dare  stamped  below, 
or  on  the  date  to  which  renewed.  Renewals  only: 

Tel.  No.  642-3405 

Renewals  may  be  made  4  days  prior  to  date  due. 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


y  1973    ^  ,. 

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IRVINE 

INTERLIBRARY  LOAH 

JUL25  1977 


BEG.  CIR. A*  }Q  "II 


LD21A-10m-8,'73 
(R1902S10)476— A-31 


General  Library 

University  of  California 

Berkeley 


